


My Dagger Through Your Gut

by Mairaa



Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Humor, Hatake Kakashi is Not Okay, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Build, Tenzo is So Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28976679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mairaa/pseuds/Mairaa
Summary: Contrary to popular beliefs, Kakashi did have a support system of his own. Therapy group, self-help circle, whatever people called it, his coping mechanism was fully functioning and it kept him borderline sane. It didn’t matter that his group members were mostly dead and his therapy involved role-playing said dead members in his head, the point was that it worked. His skills were exemplary, his loyalty to Konoha resolute, his meticulously crafted personality insufferable. He was the near-perfect embodiment of Konoha’s finest asset, maybe not the personality part, and Kakashi honestly did not see what the council’s problem was.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Umino Iruka
Comments: 66
Kudos: 267
Collections: PERSONAL





	1. Chapter 1

Contrary to popular beliefs, Kakashi did have a support system of his own. Therapy group, self-help circle, whatever people called it, his coping mechanism was fully functioning and it kept him borderline sane. It didn’t matter that his group members were mostly dead and his therapy involved role-playing said dead members in his head, the point was that it _worked._ His skills were exemplary, his loyalty to Konoha resolute, his meticulously crafted personality insufferable. He was the near-perfect embodiment of Konoha’s finest asset, maybe not the personality part, and Kakashi honestly did not see what the council’s problem was. 

“Hatake, for the love of Konoha. Decide on a goddamn confidant before I assign you to one like everybody else!” Tsunade barked, irritated. No amount of sake was worth dealing with Sakumo’s brat right now. 

“Is that an order, Godaime-sama?” Kakashi challenged, equally irritated. He passed his annual T&I evaluation just a short two weeks ago, was declared loyal as a dog, ready to serve his village for another year if he managed to live that long. Apparently that did not placate the council enough to overlook the _“Confidant: Namikaze Minato (Deceased)”_ stated in his personnel file. 

“I will make it an order if I have to. Now get out.”

Kakashi left the Hokage’s office through the window out of spite, a confidential folder tucked under his arm, his brain silently working out how long he could procrastinate without getting maimed by his Hokage. He decided against decking Tenzō who was way too amused at his predicament, choosing to shoot a withering glare at his guard-duty kouhai instead. The confidant issue could be dealt with later.

Later for Kakashi equaled two A-ranked missions and a shattered wrist. He was summoned to the Hokage’s office after submitting his mission report and Tsunade held his broken wrist, looking positively delighted with his well-timed injury, “I can make this better or worse. Your choice.” Kakashi winced as very, very gentle pressure was applied on his wrist, triggering the unpleasant memory of delicate bones grating against one another. He flipped the folder open and started to skim through the pages. 

“Three weeks, Hatake. I gave you three weeks and you told me your dogs ate the copy.” Despite her threats, healing chakra flowed from Tsunade’s palm and his bones started to mend, instantly soothing the pain. “Maa, puppies. You know how they are.” 

“I hope they eat your books.”

Kakashi looked appalled at that, he clutched his chest with his good hand only to have Tsunade slapped a stack of paper against the side of his head. “Focus, brat. You’re not leaving my office today without giving me a name.” 

Kakashi relented. He chose his battles wisely and there was no way out of this one. Confidant, someone trained to assess and report another shinobi’s psychological condition while adhering to the highest level of confidentiality, a person whom a shinobi could always trust their deepest, darkest secrets with. By protocol, every active shinobi hitting certain indices like high kill rate or high A/S-rank mission ratio must have at least one confidant registered in their personnel file, giving the rest of Konoha a peace of mind knowing that the potentially volatile ones were under constant surveillance by trained professionals. 

In all honesty, Kakashi thought Minato-sensei was doing a fine job as his confidant. They chatted amiably when Kakashi visited the memorial stone, he wished Kakashi a safe journey when Kakashi passed by the Hokage Monument before heading out for a mission, he mediated between Kakashi and Obito whenever they got into an especially ugly argument. Everything happened in Kakashi’s head of course but it was sufficient. Minato-sensei alone was sufficient and he could not understand why the council was so hung up on the fact that his confidant was not alive. 

Kakashi gave up when he was halfway through. He flipped to the index, looked for “Registered Confidant List (Confidential)” and skipped directly to that section. He keyed his chakra signature onto the blank page and was tempted to observe with Sharingan as names slowly started to appear on the piece of paper. Some names he recognised while some others came as a surprise. Kakashi perked up a little when he locked onto Gai’s name but was disgruntled when he saw the asterisk mark which signalled Gai’s status as a part-timer, meaning another backup would be required. He continued down the list until he came across another familiar name, _Umino Iruka_. 

Thing was, Kakashi’s baggage was so heavy that his spine sometimes felt like breaking on a bad day. He was not especially fond of forging close connections lest he had to bare his heart and having Minato-sensei as his confidant was the one true solution thanks to the lack of actual human interaction. He would identify sources of negativity like shame, regret, guilt - god so much guilt - and he would talk it out with Minato-sensei in his head. If Kakashi was lucky, he might be able to digest the negativity and had one less thing weighing him down. Most of the time he swiped the whole thing under a rug and continued with his life. Compartmentalize, detach, survive. He was good at this, had been good at this since he was fourteen. 

“Is Iruka-sensei available?” Kakashi asked, head tilted to the side, hair flopping in the same direction. Tsunade simply nodded her assent, “I’ll speak with him. Shizune will handle your paperwork and I need you for another solo A-rank. You depart tomorrow.” 

“At your service, Godaime-sama.” Catching the mission scroll mid-air, Kakashi’s visible eye crinkled before he flickered out of Hokage’s office, leaving in a rush of wind that toppled over stacks of paperwork on the desk. Tsunade’s frustrated yell could be heard halfway across Konoha, decking Tenzō would have to wait another day.

* * *

Iruka was registered as a full time confidant the same time he made chūnin. He was one of the youngest to pass the exam, took the oath of conditional silence and accepted the seal that came with it, pledging his service to Konoha until he was no longer deemed fit or until his demise, whichever came first. In Sandaime’s words, Iruka was compassionate, open-minded, comfortable with emotions and his heart was at the right place — always seeing the best in people, always wanting to help. Iruka was not sure if he possessed all of those qualities, but he did what he could to live up to what Sandaime saw in him. 

Being a confidant was, for the lack of better words, heavy. He shouldered the burden of other shinobi, listened to their guilt and suffering, his hands equally bloody despite his near zero kill rate as of late. He did not, _could not_ tell his charge that things would be alright because it never would be. Lives lost and taken tend to put an irrevocable dent in a person. He was however exceptionally skilled and adamant at getting his charge to acknowledge that what was done was _done_ and at the end of the day, acceptance meant healing could start. 

Iruka had always handled only one charge at a time, his work at the academy and mission desk leaving him no capacity for more. His current charge was a retiring jounin who did his fair share of missions during his prime but had to cut-short his career due to a knee injury that never healed properly. He was no longer hitting the required indices and would likely be exempted from the requirement of having a confidant soon. 

Iruka was summoned to the Hokage’s office late at night by an Anbu in a cat mask who was polite enough to use the door. He held onto Cat’s elbow wordlessly and they shared a body flicker jutsu to the Hokage Tower. 

“Fifty four direct kills, thirty seven assists, A/S-rank ratio higher than twenty percent, almost thirty.” Iruka was seated across Tsunade when she gave him the perfunctory walkthrough of his upcoming charge’s statistics of the past twelve months, her slender fingers drumming lightly on the desk. Those were impressive numbers, not necessarily a good thing in Iruka’s opinion and he bowed his head slightly, “You worked them too hard, Godaime-sama.” 

“Save your lecture, sensei. He’s one of the best I have,” Tsunade waved a hand dismissively, the other sliding a folder across the desk. “I’ve heard about your disagreement with Kakashi during chūnin exam but I expect you to accept this.”

“Of course, Godaime-sama. We’ve made amends but I would’ve accepted it either way.”

“Good. Kitahara will be relieved from you this week. Initiate the sessions once Kakashi returns. Knowing that brat he’ll probably do everything to avoid it.” Iruka snorted as he skimmed through Kakashi’s file, automatically memorising the more important information by heart, “I will do my best.” 

“I trust that you will. The brat picked you after all.” 

“...I thought confidant’s assignment was under Hokage's discretion?” 

“It is. I allowed Kakashi to select his own. He’s being a pain in the ass and the council isn’t making this any easier. Well, that’s the perk he gets for having those numbers,” Leaning against the backrest of her chair, Tsunade gestured good-naturedly towards the door, “If you’re done asking questions sensei, I believe we all have work to do.”

Iruka left the Hokage’s office with a deep bow, politely declined Cat’s offer to send him home. He walked, the streets quiet given how late it was and he recalled what he read earlier in Kakashi’s file. Graduated from the academy at five, chūnin at six, jōnin at twelve. A prodigy and genius through and through, albeit emotionally constipated and socially handicapped if Iruka’s judgement was true.

Their existing relationship could be best described as passing acquaintances, brought together by their mutual students but not close enough for any personal interactions apart from standard greetings. They exchanged information about Team Seven over impromptu lunches, the chūnin exam debacle was behind them as they could not be bothered with grudges and Iruka made it so easy after a bowl of free, steaming ramen. Kakashi was also no stranger to Iruka’s infamous temper, being one of those jōnins whose mission reports looked like they were written by a bleeding, shaking nin-dog cowering under a tree during a thunderstorm. 

Now that Iruka thought it over, he realised that dealing with Kakashi had been rather enjoyable. Insufferable yes, but always entertaining. He might even enjoy the yelling bit if he was being honest. Some of Kakashi’s mission reports could pass as art if he had enough to drink. _Next week_ , Iruka thought as he looked up into the night sky and took a slow walk home.


	2. Chapter 2

Kakashi’s third consecutive A-rank mission turned out to be an S-rank. His return to Konoha was accompanied by a torrential downpour with raging wind and rumbling thunder. Two patrol guards caught sight of him wrapped in a battered coat, forming hand seals to flicker away before even reaching the main gate. He reappeared in the mission room to submit a miraculously legible report, grunted “to the Hokage” and promptly passed out where he stood. He smelled like a wet dog. The Godaime herself administered the emergency treatment, spewing profanities until Kakashi was stable enough to be transferred to the hospital for further assessment. 

The notification reached Iruka in the form of a shorthand note delivered by a messenger bird. He burned the small piece of paper in his palm, ignoring the curious stares of his students. In the same evening, Iruka made his way to the hospital with a bag full of goodies, his own copy of Icha Icha Paradise hidden at the bottom of the pile. It was past visiting hours, the hospital empty and Iruka headed towards the loading bay at the back of the building. He waved at a few cleaners as he passed by, knocked twice on an inconspicuous window, beaming when an old lady appeared and smiled at him. 

“Mori-san! Are you well?” Iruka greeted, handing over his bag. Mori, bless her heart, held Iruka’s hands and patted them gently like how a mother would, “I’m well, my child. And you?” 

“Busy with the kids. They're so energetic I might have trouble keeping up in a few years.” 

“Nonsense. You’re the original little terror. They have much to learn.”

Their conversation flowed naturally, like how it was supposed to be with old friends. She was also Iruka’s contact, the bridge between confidants and their charge, especially helpful when a pair’s public relationship was too impersonal to warrant a private hospital visit. She had the ability to intimidate difficult patients into submission and had no qualms smuggling junk food to those who needed a quick, unhealthy boost. Her cover as a sweet, old lady from the logistics department, sometimes eccentric, allowed her to adopt a patient or two and fussed over them without getting too many questions.

Kakashi woke up to the scent of fresh flowers, unusual but calming. On the bedside table he saw a mask resting on top of his favourite book, a glass of water and a vase full of daintily arranged lavender. He sniffed at the drink, took a swig, sniffed again at the mask and deemed it safe to put on. He then stared at the flowers, not knowing what to do with them and reached for the book instead. Any attempt to sit up straight with his back against the headboard resulted in nothing but agony. His fingers held onto the bed railings, sheer force of his grip denting the structure as he waited for the pain to pass. 

When Tsunade popped by for checkup, she was greeted by the sight of Sakumo’s brat sheepishly trying to bend the railings back to its original shape. “That’s coming out of your pocket, Hatake.” She hovered her palm over Kakashi’s torso, healing chakra scanning his injuries, “Report.”

“Six missing nins from Iwa intercepted at south-west outpost near Tanzaku. Two did not engage in combat, possibly seal experts, the rest jōnin. I neutralized two, one was incapacitated, remaining three still at large. Their target was the scroll and they knew the workings of our seals. Our informant’s death might not be an accident as we are made to believe. Request to instigate an inquest immediately.”

“Cleanup squad is on their way and Ibiki is dealing with the rest as we speak. I’m giving you two weeks off. Get a session with Iruka before you report back for duty. Clear?” 

Kakashi blinked, shrugged, earned himself a calculated jab to his ribs and choked at the pain. “... P-Positive.” 

“Good. Fix that railing.”

Kakashi made his great escape after five days of being cooped up in his tiny, spartan ward. It took longer than usual thanks to the old lady who brought him extra food and kept his flowers alive. He was caught limping towards an open window on day two, his field experience honed instinct screaming _Abort! Abort!_ when he saw her dangerously sweet smile. Kakashi shuffled back to his bed, pulled a blanket over his legs and folded his hands on top of his thighs. He was busted again on day three, medi-nins cackling as they watched Kakashi suffer through an entire chapter of Icha Icha being read out loud to him by someone old enough to be his grandmother. Properly traumatised, Kakashi blushed to the tips of his ears, the heat underneath his mask scalding. 

The only other good thing that came out of his extended hospitalization, excellent food aside, was that Kakashi actually left the facility without feeling like he was going to topple over any minute. Gai did not visit, likely on a mission, and the only person left to harass was Tenzō. Looking at the Anbu's timetable, his kouhai should be running an infiltration drill at training ground six. Visually, the area appeared to be empty but Kakashi could sense concealed chakra signatures, flickering in and out of existence among the trees. He isolated Tenzō’s chakra and suppressed his own to join the fray, leaping from branch to branch until he was within Tenzō’s range of sight. _Eat,_ he signed. Cat stared blankly ahead, but his gloved hands were moving. 

_I’m not paying._

_Thirteen hundred. Ichiraku._

_Ok. Go away._

Fox appeared between them, hanging upside down from a branch. _Can I join?_

_Pay._

_Eat my sandals._

As abrupt as it began, their conversation ended when a shuriken came flying and struck Fox square in the chest. The clone disappeared in a puff of smoke, Cat blended into the trees quite literally and Kakashi threw a kunai over his shoulder in reflex, satisfied when he heard the sharp clang of metal. Cat and Fox rushed past him towards the sound and Kakashi held ground, extending his senses to locate other nearby operatives in hiding. Anbu drills were good exercise, no point wasting them. 

Kakashi was just about done with his stretching when Tenzō entered the changing room dressed in standard shinobi blacks, “You’re not allowed in here, senpai.” Tenzō reminded as he did his leg bindings, wordlessly handing over his bandages when Kakashi wiggled his fingers — training ground six was a mudhole. “Maa… Technicalities.” Fresh bindings on his calves, Kakashi threw the roll of bandage against a wall and snatched it as it bounced back, playing catch with himself. Most operatives offered their silent greeting in the form of a subtle nod, completely unfazed to see their reinstate-when-needed colleague chilling around breaking protocols.

“Don’t push it.” Zipping his flak jacket, Tenzō adjusted his forehead protector until it framed his face right, “We might file a joint complaint. Hatake Kakashi washed his muddy sandals in the sink, clogged the drainage, suiton the hell out of it and broke our communal shower’s piping.” Fox snorted two lockers away, covered in mud from head to toe, twigs in his hair. Locker door snapped shut, Tenzō headed towards the exit and Kakashi followed, giving a two-fingers salute to Fox and easily caught the twig thrown at him. 

The vein on Tenzō’s forehead throbbed when they ended up at the back of the hospital one o’clock sharp, a mere two blocks away from their original destination. Kakashi scaled the wall, jumped through an open window and signalled Tenzō to follow. When Tenzō hugged his chest and refused to budge, Kakashi signed _I pay_. 

“Senpai. This is not even wood." Tugging lightly at the metal railings, Tenzō grimaced when Kakashi singlehandedly dislodged the whole thing and broke the sliding mechanism beyond repair. A few higher ranking medi-nins shot daggers at them and Tenzō bowed, going so low because his senpai was doing jackshit to help with the situation. 

"Ah, minor details."

“...Senpai.” 

“Your wood is hard and solid, Yamato. Tough. Lasts long too.”

“ _Senpai._ ” 

Tenzō repaired half of the hospital on that day. The maintenance staff thanked them for their contribution in maintaining Konoha’s facilities, promising only the best mattresses for all their future stay. Starving, Tenzō wiped sweat off his brows and kicked Kakashi in the shin. They left using the window, leaping down to ground floor silent as cats but still managed to spook an Umino Iruka who whipped out a kunai and pulled a tiny old lady behind his back. Mori-san, Kakashi’s brain supplied, and he connected the dots instantly. 

“Apologies, Iruka-sensei,” Tenzō offered, bowing slightly. “It’s me who should apologise, Yamato-san, Kakashi-sensei.” Sliding his kunai back to his weapon pouch, Iruka smiled and promptly turned his back to check on Mori. She gave Kakashi a quick once-over as Iruka fussed over her reddened arm, thin lips quirked in a smirk. When she turned to look at Iruka however, her gaze softened and she told the academy teacher everything was right as rain. Tenzō raised his eyebrows when Kakashi noticeably straightened his slouch under Mori’s watchful gaze, raised them even higher when he saw the pink peeking through his senpai’s mask. 

“Would you like to join us for ramen?” Being one of Hokage’s personal guards meant that clearance was something Tenzō could brag about. He extended the invite knowing full well that Iruka was Kakashi’s new confidant and his senpai rejected the idea of having a confidant with every fibre of his being. He had no doubt Iruka would accept his invitation, it was after all an opportunity to get better acquainted with his charge, something rather essential if a confidant wanted to do their job right. 

What Tenzō had failed to consider was that his social skills out of mission context were just as hopeless as his senpai’s, if not worse. When it was just Iruka and Kakashi, they spoke about Team Seven, Naruto and mission room shenanigans. When it was just Tenzō and Kakashi, they traded insults, exchanged gossip, trash-talked Anbu regulations and scheduled trainings. There was no overlapping, mutual topic here and both jōnins were seriously considering talking about the weather. In the end, Tenzō ate his noodles in tiny bites so that he could avoid talking, Kakashi gulped everything down since the beginning and quietly nursed his cup of hot tea, Iruka sat in the middle, finished his ramen broth, thinking _what is wrong with these jōnins_.

Putting down his chopsticks, Iruka stretched his senses to ensure their surroundings were clear before looking straight at Tenzō, voice low as he spoke. “Look, Yamato-san. I know you’re Cat. You know I’m Kakashi-sensei’s confidant. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.” Tenzō blinked, dumbfounded, and Kakashi snorted on the other side. His glee at Tenzō’s identity being outed was short-lived as Iruka turned to face him next, brown eyes steely. “And you, Kakashi-sensei. Tsunade-sama wanted us to have one session in, we’re going to get one session in. I’m usually free in the evenings but one day's notice is appreciated. We can also do it here and now if you so wish.” 

Kakashi stared, quiet and intense, then the pressure was gone quick as it came. Resting his chin on one palm, he teased, “My, my. How forward, sensei.”

“I’ll be taking my leave.” Pushing his chair back, Tenzō drank the rest of his tea standing, buying Iruka some time to tame the flush across his cheeks. “Thank you for joining us, Iruka-sensei. Kakashi-senpai will grab the bill.” For all the complaints Iruka heard from Naruto in the past, Kakashi did end up paying for all of them, even brushing away Iruka’s offer to cover his own portion. Iruka looked around the small booth, noticing a few more taken seats now that it was closer to dinner time. “Shall we go?” he asked and Kakashi nodded, holding up the curtain until Iruka exited the store. 

They walked in companionable silence, getting further and further away from the bustling main street, eventually reaching the memorial stone despite never agreeing to a destination. The sun had started to set, their shadows stretching far. “If I knew a session with confidant is to visit the memorial stone and pay respect in silence, I would’ve accepted a new assignment years ago,” Kakashi was the one who spoke, having spent the last ten minutes without a word from Iruka. The teacher laughed, habitually rubbing his scar, eyes full of mirth, “No, sorry. I was just telling my parents about you. Unfortunately we still have to talk.” 

“You have to ask the questions then, sensei. I might not answer them.” 

Kakashi’s tone was light and teasing, his visible eye crinkled but Iruka knew instinctively that Kakashi was very much against the idea of _talking_. It was the change in posture that gave it away, Iruka thought, since for as long as they stood there in front of the memorial, Kakashi had been standing straight, back tall, head lowered, looking every bit the powerful yet battered shinobi he was. But now that they were venturing to uncomfortable topics, the jōnin had returned to his usual slouch, leaning his weight on one leg, hands tucked into pockets. 

“Do you really smell like a dog when you’re drenched?” Iruka asked, grinning when Kakashi’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. “This gossip has been circulating in the mission room since your return. I’m dying to know.” The copy-nin was positively amused now, Iruka could see the outline of a grin underneath the mask, “Do I smell like a dog to you?” Sniffing the air, Iruka frowned and leaned closer to Kakashi, taking a stronger whiff, “No, not that I can tell. You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

“Part of my charm,” Kakashi shot back without missing a beat, still grinning, then continued in a softer, gentler tone, “My pack kept me warm when I was conserving energy to push through the last leg. They did great.” Iruka honestly did not expect a truthful admission and he could not help but to smile warmly at his socially inept charge who was willing to take baby steps and work with him.

“So sensei, chapter sixteen. You like bossy woman?” Whatever fondness Iruka felt for the jōnin, he took it all back. They ended up bickering as they walked towards the main street, Iruka sporting a full blush as he explained to Kakashi why discussing sexual preferences with an acquaintance, alone or not, was never going to be appropriate. “But you’re my confidant!” Kakashi had whined, “You even borrowed me your copy... And I like chapter sixteen too!” At this point Iruka was not even sure if Kakashi was just desperate to talk about his reading preferences with another fellow reader or if he was just pulling Iruka’s pigtails. Iruka was willing to bet his life-savings that it was the latter. For a first session with _the_ Hatake Kakashi, it could have gone a lot worse. Iruka was not complaining.


	3. Chapter 3

The cleanup squad dispatched to follow through Kakashi’s mission returned with four enemy-nins’ heads and the body of their lost informant. Sealed in a scroll, the decaying corpse was handed over to T&I for autopsy and Kakashi was summoned to attend the briefing despite still being off-duty. The air in the Intelligence Division building was stale and Kakashi breathed shallower, concentrating on the pictures Ibiki was showing. “Forensics confirmed that our informant’s seal was broken after his death. He was not compromised but our seal is no longer infallible. First extraction squad has secured four subjects, they will withdraw from Takigakure immediately.” 

Tsunade nodded when Ibiki turned to her, “I want another squad to swap in and pull out the remaining three. Their last known location is at the border outpost between Taki and Kusa. Scour the area and bring our people home.” Tsunade paused, scanning the room, “Gai, can you take this?” 

Gai, sporting a huge bruise on the side of his face and a broken nose - he must have been on the cleanup squad - gave their Hokage a reassuring thumbs-up, “You can count on me, Godaime-sama!” 

“Put together a team of four. Shizune will hand over the mission scroll. Shiranui, tighten border control and inspect all outposts, I don’t want rats in our land. Hatake, my office. Dismissed!”

The Godaime was rocking a rather impressive pair of dark circles, Kakashi noticed as they made their way to the Hokage Tower. Their surroundings were quiet, too early even for a hidden village, and Shizune placed a cup of steaming tea on the desk while Tsunade slumped into her chair. “I need stronger stuff, Shizune. Something that knocks me out until next week.” 

“You have no money for something like that, Tsunade-sama. Excuse me now, I need to speak with Gai-sensei.” 

Tsunade groaned, intelligible, and glared at the cup of tea in distaste, “Cat, get your ass in here!” Tenzō appeared beside Kakashi in full Anbu regalia, completely silent, and a secondary ward went up after a few hand seals from the Hokage herself. 

“Two years ago, we received a tip-off that the Yatsubuchi clan of Taki is working with Iwa. There are signs of desertion, but some clan members have proven themselves loyal. Yatsubuchi is the most prominent clan in Taki, losing them would cripple the village. Shibuki, the village head, had sought Konoha’s assistance and we agreed to extend our resources to help them monitor the clan’s activities. Taki has always been politically neutral given their less than ideal geographical location. Their alliance with Konoha must never be made public.” 

Kakashi felt a sense of dread settling over him as he processed the newly divulged information. The Yatsubuchi clan’s situation was not dissimilar from the Uchiha’s, a grim memory etched into his mind, vivid as yesterday. 

“Someone out there is trying to prove our involvement with Taki and Ibiki is still trying to find out who and why. At the same time, Shibuki had requested for the assassination of Yatsubuchi Hirayu, head of the second house whom we’ve pinned as Iwa’s main contact. Our intentions are aligned, we will remove the snake’s head before it bites.”

Kakashi exhaled, less weight on his chest now that only one person was named. This was shaping up to be an assassination, that he could do, especially when the target was probably strong enough to put up a good fight. 

“Hound! Cat! Your mission is to assassinate Yatsubuchi Hirayu, bring his head and dispose of his body. Leave no evidence or witnesses. Nothing shall link the mission back to Konoha,” with that said, Tsunade handed the mission scroll to Kakashi, indicating that he would be leading the mission. When she spoke again, her posture and voice were softer, “The Will of Fire shall protect you. I wish for your success and safe return.”

The way Kakashi worked with Tenzō was near instinctual. They headed back to their own apartment to make necessary preparation, knowing by heart that they would meet at the first northern outpost instead of the main gate without a single word exchanged. Kakashi stripped and changed into his Anbu uniform, pulling on sandals, gloves and flak jacket before his metal arm guards went on. A short sword was strapped onto his upper back, weapon pouches behind his lower waist, his hound mask then slipped onto his face, seamless. He randomly pulled a coat out of his closet, black and frayed at the edges, likely splattered with blood stains but invisible on the dark canvas, and slung his mission pack onto his shoulder. Fresh produce in his fridge would go to the old lady living two streets away, he watered Mr. Ukki. The entire routine took less than fifteen minutes and Kakashi was climbing out of his window, leaping towards the roof. 

His steps were light as he made his way to the Hokage monument viewing point, creating barely any noise when the ball of his feet hit the roof tiles. He flickered when he was close enough, startling a poor soul who was just trying to drink coffee without spilling half of it. With his coat obscuring every identifiable feature, porcelain mask blank and menacing, his presence was intense and he was granted instant silence the second he flickered into existence. Sun was rising, the play of shadow and light beautiful on the carved stone, and Kakashi stood in reverence, his coat rippling lightly in the wind. 

_I’ll be off now. Please watch over Konoha._

“The Will of Fire shall protect you. Come home safe.” 

The voice itself did not startle Kakashi, it had a caressing quality like the morning breeze and he had long sensed the presence of his confidant, but the timing and context of those words — it was like Minato-sensei replied and Kakashi’s heart clenched. He turned to face Iruka, taking in the sight of him. The teacher was smiling, he had a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, ponytail impeccable and chakra calm. He portrayed one of the many things Kakashi had sworn to protect.

_Minato-sensei, meet Iruka. He’s my new confidant. I’ve kept you busy for too long, haven’t I?_

Yondaime would have rolled his eyes and said it was high time for him to retire, and that he was happy to provide all the years of extended, complimentary service. His sensei had always been kind, Kakashi smiled, lips stretching the soft fabric of his mask.

_I must go now. Tenzō nags if I take too long._

As if sensing that he was about to leave, Iruka bowed, hair flopping with the motion. Kakashi caught a glimpse of Iruka’s nape, loose strands of baby hair that could not make it to the ponytail, and a group of pre-genins standing nearby looking at them in awe. He lowered his head instead of returning the bow, voice low as he murmured, “Sensei.” 

Kakashi left too soon to notice the frown on Iruka’s face. The academy teacher was extremely good at recognising voices, muffled or not, it was how he outed Cat. Still, a single word was too few for Iruka to pin down the operative’s identity, only knowing for sure that he had heard this voice somewhere before. There was no time to ponder over the details as a group of pre-genins swarmed in and bombarded Iruka with excited, high-pitched yells of “That was so cool! Anbu-san was so cool! Did Anbu-san talk to you Iruka-sensei?! Does Anbu-san have claws Iruka-sensei?!” 

Iruka half-smiled, half-winced at the little terrors - his ears were ringing - ruffled some heads and led the youngest ones by hand to the academy. 

* * *

The journey to Taki had been strenuous. They travelled at maximum speed, made do without Tenzō’s cabin to remain discreet, huddled in their sleeping bags battling creepy-crawlies during the few hours of sleep they could afford, tormented by Taki’s humidity. As they ventured closer to Earth’s border, they scouted the surrounding area of an abandoned safehouse in which Yatsubuchi Hirayu was scheduled to meet with his contacts two days later. Kakashi’s nin-dogs were tasked to backtrack all possible routes to the safehouse and Shiba reported back when he came across a three men group heading towards the safehouse, confirming the presence of their target. Kakashi then regrouped with Tenzō, drafted a plan, planted some traps and they waited. 

Hirayu did not take their bait. He stopped a short distance away from the chakra wire, yelling warnings as he blasted Tenzō out of his hiding place with quick succession of water bullets, each strike lethal. One of the followers was nimble enough to retract, immediately seeking cover from the dense foliage but the other was not as lucky. These two were brothers, Kakashi realised the moment he saw them, having memorised the face and name of every Yatsubuchi alive. Their first victim barely had time to widen his eyes before his upper body was blasted clean off, a kunai with an explosive tag piercing his neck right before his demise. Nicking his thumb, Kakashi called forth his summons, his order simple, “Kill him.” The pack dispersed, some taking the trees while the others went underground, and Kakashi turned his focus to the fight with Hirayu. 

He felt the jutsu before he saw it, the pressure in the air increased so rapidly that his body reacted by pumping adrenaline into his system, pushing his heart rate and muscle strength to run on high drive. He leaped up towards the foliage when the earth rumbled and a huge wave swept over the entire area, replacing stench of charred human flesh with that of soil and mud. Tenzō’s wood release was in its best elements, branches and pillars were bursting out from tree trunks, forcing Hirayu to bring the battle to forest ground where there was less cover. Kakashi had been observing, trying to find an opening to strike when he saw the cut of wind at Tenzō’s left, so silent and deadly Kakashi would not have noticed it if not for the leaves that were sliced cleanly in half. He erected a mud wall to fend it off, barely making it in time, but the wind cut through the weaker edge and landed on Tenzō’s side — the cut so clean Tenzō did not start bleeding until he moved. 

The battle lasted long by Anbu’s standards. Their ways were supposed to be obscure, like shadows in the dark, they preferred getting things done without anyone noticing. But Hirayu was too strong an opponent to be taken out that way. The aftermath of their battle left the area bare and flooded, the ground muddy and there was no way they could cover this up. Kakashi gave the order to retrieve the heads while he cleaned up their trail, they must retreat before Hirayu’s contacts arrived. Tenzō suffered a deep gash to his left along with countless lacerations, Kakashi fared only slightly better. Just as Tenzō was sealing the heads into a scroll, they heard a loud gasp followed by a sob before killing intent filled the air, untrained, raw with grief. The chakra however was so weak that their post-battle instinct did not categorize it as a threat, therefore completely missing the presence of the newcomer. 

Tenzō summoned a tree bound burial having pinpointed their location despite not having visual, trapping them into the binds of branches slowly forging into a tree trunk which would eventually crush them to death. With the pain came the scream, the voice too young to be an adult, and Tenzō froze. It was a girl, not older than twelve, looking at Tenzō like she had seen a demon. Numerous scenarios ran through Kakashi’s mind at that split second and they all led to the same outcome. He crouched in front of the wailing girl with his sharingan revealed, put her in a genjutsu and snapped her neck in one swift move. 

They did not know why or how she got there, had not heard her speak apart from the screams and sobs. She was Yatsubuchi Hisako, the youngest niece of Hirayu, cheeks still pudgy with baby fat. Her name had an old lineage and carried the meaning of long-lived child, Kakashi felt bile rise in his throat. Tenzō released his jutsu, gently letting the girl down into the cradle of Kakashi’s arms like she weighed nothing at all. She was so _small_. 

“Leave no witness,” Kakashi murmured, almost in a trance and Tenzō echoed, voice hollow. The trip back to Konoha was in complete silence with bare minimum of breaks. They leaped among the trees, feet nimble but shoulders tense, the weight of lives too heavy even for the finest of shinobi. 

* * *

Iruka woke up to the sound of thunder. It rumbled once, so loud that it must have woken up half of Konoha. He looked at his clock, it was four and he went back to sleep. Half an hour later Iruka was counting the cracks on his ceiling. He groaned, rolling out of bed and decided to go for a run. There was no rain that accompanied the thunder, and the weird, sleep-deprived part of Iruka’s mind thought that it was like a fart without the need to go to the washroom. 

Being an academy teacher meant that there was a perpetually lesser chance of taking up missions. The whole chūnin-with-high-clearance situation did not help his case, he was pretty much blocked from accepting missions which could potentially turn high risk. Unlike most active shinobi, Iruka had to keep himself in shape with mostly training, compensating the lack of field work with self-discipline. His katas were textbook perfect, his kunai throwing instructions for beginners was printed into booklets and sold as teaching material in all hidden villages, not that he was complaining about the extra income. Point was Iruka had to fit exercise around his hectic schedule, and sometimes that meant going for a run when people were still asleep. 

Konoha’s mornings, like her nights, were tranquil. The streets were empty, sky dark, but the birds had started to chirp occasionally. Iruka was dressed in standard shinobi blues, he practically lived in his uniform these days, and he stretched quickly before starting his laps around the village. The feeling of wind brushing past was pleasant, the morning air crisp and he was fit enough not to be out of breath after he completed his round near the memorial stone. Then he realised at five thirty in the morning, one Hatake Kakashi was standing right there in front of the memorial. 

Iruka had not seen his charge for the last ten days and had assumed that Kakashi was on another mission, he was not wrong. The jōnin had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, numerous bandaged wounds visible on his forearms, some were bleeding through. Reciting the standard procedure of how to deal with a possibly unstable jōnin freshly returned from a mission, Iruka had not even decide on a course of action before Kakashi turned to face him, visible eye crinkling as he teased, “Sensei, is standing like a log ten feet away a new method of paying respect?”

Iruka huffed, walking to stand beside Kakashi, “Well, nice to see you too.” Iruka greeted his parents with palms pressed together in front of his face, head respectfully lowered. He redid his ponytail into a messy bun once he was done, disliking the way hair was sticking onto his sweaty neck. “I thought you’re off duty for two weeks,” Iruka broke the silence, curious. The jōnin seemed to be entranced by his hairstyle because Kakashi _stared_ , his reply absentminded, “Maa… missions. You know how it is.” Iruka would have quipped “I don’t, I’m kind of being benched” if he was on a more familiar term with Kakashi, but he simply smiled and replied with a mission desk standard, “Thank you for your hard work.” 

“I’m glad you’re home safe,” he added as an afterthought, noting the sky was turning into a deep blue now and he excused himself to start his day. Kakashi gave a small wave when he left, seemingly having no intention to leave the memorial any time soon. 

It wasn’t until his lunch break that Iruka finally realised what was so wrong about his encounter with Kakashi, apart from the insane hours. There had been condensation, tiny droplets of water gathered on top of the jōnin’s shoulder and the scroll pockets of his flak jacket. He had noticed when he stood beside Kakashi but had not thought much of it at that moment. How long the jōnin must have been there, standing still until his jacket’s surface was chilled enough for condensation to happen when warmer air hit. 

Alarm clock blaring, Iruka woke up at four the next morning. He crawled out of his bed, braved the cold and took the quickest route to the memorial stone by the rooftops. He wanted to make sure, fervently hoping that his suspicion was wrong, but his heart dropped when he saw none other than Kakashi standing at the exact same spot, in the exact same posture, the time was a little past four. 

Iruka made his presence known, not wanting to startle Kakashi, and the jōnin once again crinkled his eye, greeting him easily, “You’re getting earlier with your visits, sensei.” Iruka did not respond to that. Quietly he observed the hard set of Kakashi’s shoulder, noticing the way his eye crinkled but his mask did not even move, and his slightly balled up pockets, as if he was holding his fists underneath. Iruka moved until he was in front of Kakashi, looked at him in the eye and slowly pressed his palm on Kakashi’s exposed forearm. It was cold to the touch. 

Kakashi stopped bothering with his eye crinkle façade. He looked at Iruka, gaze steely, challenging even, and Iruka gently closed his fingers. “You’re home now,” he said, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the scarred skin, ready to let go if Kakashi so much as twitched. The jōnin stood unmoving, allowing the touch, never breaking eye-contact. “Thank you for coming home.” 

With that, Iruka let go of Kakashi’s forearm, took one step forward, and enveloped his charge in a hug. His palms were flat on Kakashi’s back, he could feel the gentle rise and fall of Kakashi’s scapula, those impossible silver strands feathery soft at the side of his face. Eventually Kakashi flopped his head onto Iruka’s shoulder, and Iruka fought to keep his breathing even as he moved one hand to rest on the jōnin’s head, not daring to risk any other movement. 

They stood like that for what felt like an eternity before Kakashi said into his shoulder, voice muffled, “There was a child.” He said it like that explained everything, and to Iruka, it actually did to a certain degree. He was instantly reminded of the Anbu operative he met recently, his and Kakashi’s voice having the same timbre quality, the timing of their appearances fitting perfectly like puzzle pieces. There were also too many implications on that single-liner, none of them good. 

Iruka decided to just hold Kakashi, careful, gentle, like he was holding something precious and fragile, and he did not let go for a very long time. 


	4. Chapter 4

Kakashi took one look at his plant and decided to bring it to Tenzō. He bypassed the ward, picked the lock and entered Tenzō’s apartment from the window. He then sat on the only chair in the room, rocking it back and forth as he waited for the shower to stop running. Tenzō did not even bat an eye at his visitor, he towel-dried his hair while sitting on the bed, sighed when he saw a withering Mr. Ukki at his window sill. The entire left side of his bandaged waist was covered in bruises, the myriad of colours a stark contrast with his pale skin. His ribs were showing. 

“Yo,” Kakashi greeted, feeling marginally better after his sleep. Iruka had managed to coax him into getting some shut-eye after walking him home from the memorial, making sure Kakashi was in bed before he left and surprisingly, Kakashi had slept. He knew by experience once he could manage sleeping, other standard functions like eating would gradually return, so he might as well start coercing Tenzō to help with things he must do. 

“My dogs won’t bathe themselves you know.” Tenzō started groaning before Kakashi finished his sentence. He flopped onto the bed, immediately curling to the side as pain shot up his spine. “They’re not even mine,” he mumbled through gritted teeth, breathing in from his nose, out from his mouth, “I’m in pain, senpai. Can’t help with the dogs.” 

“The bet, Tenzō,” Kakashi pressed, eyes roving over Tenzō’s torso, noting most of the injuries were superficial except the gash on his waist. “That was eight years ago!” Tenzō argued, then bargained when he realised he was going to lose anyway, “I’ll bring help.” At that Kakashi shrugged, and Tenzō took it as a passive okay. 

Help came in the form of Iruka-sensei. They ran into each other when Tenzō was walking towards the Hatake compound, miffed because he could not find Gai  _ anywhere,  _ walking because his waist was low-key killing him. The academy teacher had looked at him in concern, but thankfully did not ask why he was limping. He asked about Kakashi instead, stating that he could not find his charge and he was wondering if Tenzō had any idea. Putting two and two together was not that difficult, it was a bad mission, Iruka was Kakashi’s confidant, and Tenzō readily invited the teacher to join them at the Hatake compound. With Kakashi’s dogs around, there would be no room for awkwardness. 

Hatake compound was located at the very outskirts of the village, overlooking a huge expanse of rice paddy, surrounded by calming greenery. It was a single-storey structure with a fair amount of land, the design traditional and the building well-kept. There was not much landscaping going on in the front garden, a few hydrangea shrubs lined the fence, grey gravel covering the ground. Tenzō disrupted the ward with his chakra, it flashed a brilliant white before shutting down at the front entrance to allow entry. The moment the ward went down was the moment Iruka realised that his class of pre-genins might not be the rowdiest bunch in the village. Tenzō visibly winced at the noise and Iruka, having better tolerance, raised his eyebrows so high they must have reached his hairline. 

“Senpai is washing his dogs. It’s normal.” 

_ Define normal,  _ Iruka thought to himself, an ever polite smile plastered on his face. His ears rang from the howling and barking of what sounded like a dozen of dogs, along with people trying to talk to each other over the dogs and Kakashi, in an exasperated tone Iruka had never heard before, barked, “Urushi! Get down here!”

He followed Tenzō to the back garden without entering the main house and the sight that he saw was so ridiculous Iruka was not sure if it was okay to laugh. There was a half-dressed Anbu operative, one sandal missing, fox mask askew, wrestling a huge bulldog into a wooden bucket. There was Gai, one arm in a sling, washing a medium sized dog on his lap, getting more soap suds on himself than on the dog. Then there was Kakashi, holding what looked like a nail clipper, having a stare-down with one of his summons. “You’re late,” Kakashi said without looking at them, his full attention on the dog with a light-brown coat. 

“Please senpai, you’re the last person I want to hear that from. Who should I wash?” 

“Find Shiba, he should be hiding under the engawa. Sensei, you can wash Pakkun.” 

Iruka’s mind was still processing Kakashi’s instructions when Tenzō took both their bags and went inside the house, sandals haphazardly kicked-off on the stepping stone. Their belongings were left at the guest area, Tenzō advising him to take off his flak jacket and leg bindings if he wanted to salvage those, and Iruka did as he was told. It wasn’t until Iruka was scrubbing dried blood and mud off Pakkun that he caught on - these goddamn jōnins had just roped him into free labour! He turned to scowl at Tenzō, saw the jōnin was getting washed by Shiba more than he was washing the dog, and felt instantly better.

Kakashi sat cross-legged beside Iruka after he won the stare-down contest with Urushi, a calm, tiny dog in his lap, giving Kakashi free access to its paws and nails. He held the dog close to his face when he was done, nuzzling the exposed belly, praising, “Good boy, Bisuke. Get Akino for me.” The display of affection made Iruka smile. Kakashi in his natural habitat gave away so many amusing little details about the copy-nin and Iruka gladly took them all in. He experienced firsthand how Kakashi could smell like a wet dog, could even act like one when his hair got wet, casually shaking the water out. Iruka squeezed Pakkun’s pink paw pads when he was done, and Pakkun tolerated it, pretending not to love the belly rubs Iruka freely gave. 

His evening of free labour turned out to be even better when Kakashi prepared dinner and it was  _ exquisite _ . Fresh sea bass broiled to perfection, flavourful eggplant miso soup along with pickled vegetables and chilled tofu as sides, eaten together with rice topped with furikake. Iruka honestly could not remember when was the last time he had something home-cooked this delicious, and he must have been a little teary when he looked at Kakashi because the jōnin handed him a serviette and teased, “Don’t go falling in love with me now, sensei.” Fox ate together with Tenzō at the engawa since he could not show his face, moaning at every bite, already asking when he could visit again. And Gai being Gai, he cried, waxed poetry about Kakashi and sea bass, then cried a little more. 

When Iruka was out of the shower, there was only Kakashi around. The jōnin sat on the edge of the engawa, waiting with a bottle of sake and two cups, and Iruka wordlessly took the space at Kakashi’s left. He looked at his charge, question obvious but left unasked. “Maa… I wanted to talk so I asked them to leave.” At that Iruka raised his brows, and Kakashi continued with a soft chuckle, “Only Yamato knows. The other two think I want to court you. Gai even gave me a thumbs-up while thrusting his hips.” 

The mental image was too much and Iruka choked. Cheeks bright red, he raised the sake bottle to avoid having to say anything. Kakashi automatically held his cup in one hand, the other lightly supporting the base, waiting for Iruka to pour his drink. His fingers were slender, very pale and they looked elegant despite the multitude of scars littering his skin. Iruka made sure the pinched mouth of the bottle was facing upwards before he started pouring, slowing the flow to a trickle before coming to a stop and Kakashi returned the favour. They drank in silence, letting the white noise of rustling leaves and buzzing insects washed over them. 

“Why did you hug me, sensei?” Kakashi’s voice was low, intimate. Iruka leaned back on his palms and looked up, the sky brilliant with stars, “You looked like you needed it. I don’t have much context to work with, it limits how I can help.” It took Kakashi three cups of sake before he spoke again, “I killed a child. She saw something she should not have seen.”

Nodding slowly, Iruka digested the information with a heavy heart. He thought over his choice of words, Kakashi looked like he was about to flee any second, and there was literally nothing nice Iruka could say about a situation like this. “...There are difficult decisions to be made on the field, Kakashi-sensei. Whatever decision we ended up making, I trust that it was made with the best intention.”

“So killing a child is some kind of best intention? You’re making me laugh, sensei,” Kakashi snapped, voice still low but there was a storm hidden underneath, the snark obvious. The copy-nin downed his sake in one gulp, rattling the deck as he slammed his cup down with too much force. It was impolite to leave your drinking partner’s cup empty but feeling his own temper bubbling, Iruka could not bring himself to care. He sat with his back straight, when he spoke he was firm, “A life taken is a life taken. I’m not going to sugarcoat this. But we do what we must as Konoha shinobi, and we learn how to live with the consequences of our actions.”

“And why are you giving me advice when your hands are so goddamn clean?” 

Iruka would have decked Kakashi in the head with the sake set, expensive or not, if he did not have a job to do. His face was flushed red in anger, and he downed his sake before slamming the cup down just like Kakashi did, not bothering to hide his frustration. “We all fight our own battles, Kakashi-sensei. I teach the young, I guide them in their very first steps of becoming a shinobi, I instruct them how to take lives when they can barely write. Eventually they’re all sent to the field, to kill or to be killed. I don’t need to behead someone to get blood on my hands.” 

The air was tense after their heated exchange, the current round of silence being the most uncomfortable by far. Both their sake cups were empty, the option to drink and avoid all interaction was out of the question, but Iruka was not willing to leave when they had so much patching up to do. Eventually Kakashi raised the sake bottle, and at that point Iruka’s anger had simmered down into annoyance so he held his cup up - the sake flowed again between them. Later that night, a tipsy Iruka looked at Kakashi, earnest and sincere, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that but what is done is done. Live, take care of yourself. Don’t worry your friends too much, we know you’re not eating.” Much later that night, a completely hammered Iruka hugged Kakashi and would not let go until the jōnin said he was getting them more sake. That was the last of Iruka’s memories.

Iruka had woken up in an unfamiliar room the next morning, his mind filling him in with the events from yesterday. He folded the futon and put it back into the wardrobe, found his hair tie and went looking for the bathroom, then Kakashi. Walking along the engawa, he took in the sight of a tasteful stone garden, so different from the chaos he saw yesterday, calming and serene. Light grey gravel covered the area, a few jagged rocks artfully placed in the space, rippling patterns raked into the sand representing waves, and a lone, weeping willow at the corner surrounded by moss-covered stones of various sizes. Kakashi must have restored the garden while Iruka was sleeping, and he did a damn good job at that. 

“To what I owe this pleasure?” Iruka croaked when he saw the impressive breakfast spread, cringed when he heard how rough his voice sounded. Kakashi gave him a glass of water before sitting down at the low table, leaving the best seat overlooking the garden to Iruka. “I apologise for yesterday,” picking up his chopsticks, Kakashi lowered his mask. “Being an academy teacher is admirable. I was out of line.” 

There were too many things going on at once Iruka could not cope. He had been drinking with Kakashi the entire night, respecting the jōnin’s privacy by not looking, and now his charge just casually lowered his mask like it was completely normal. Straight nose, pink lips, thin jaw - Kakashi was good-looking, but it was the tiny beauty mark that was truly distracting. There was also the fact that Kakashi had apologised about what he said yesterday, which was an extremely nice gesture and he should definitely say something… 

“Please eat,” Kakashi’s deep baritone stopped Iruka’s internal blabbering, his lips upturned in a smirk. Groaning, Iruka held his forehead in one hand - he could feel his face burning - and made a vague gesture around his lower face with the other, “...Your mask.” 

“I can’t eat fast, sensei. Need to ease back into it.” At that Iruka snapped out of it, he looked at Kakashi with concern, “How many days?”

“Maa… A few. I ate rations.” 

He knew Kakashi was avoiding a direct answer, but he was not going to push. Kakashi had made an effort to talk, providing more information than the single-liner he managed to coax out from his charge, and this was sufficient for now. “Kakashi-sensei,” Iruka began, pausing slightly to rephrase his request but nothing clever came up. He decided to speak his mind, “Please come to me the next time you have a bad mission. I promise my cooking is better than rations. We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to, just let me feed you.” 

Kakashi did not reply immediately, he picked on a piece of salmon, stirred his miso soup around, playing with his food like one of Iruka’s pre-genins, before he finally hummed a vague agreement, “We’ll see.” It was the closest ‘yes’ Iruka would get for now and he could live with it. Finally picking up his chopsticks, Iruka started off his breakfast with a piece of tamagoyaki, it was heavenly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Engawa is the verandah of a traditional Japanese house. Stone garden, or "karesansui" in Japanese, is a dry landscape garden using rock, sand, gravel and moss to represent mountains and water. It is very peaceful to look at.


	5. Chapter 5

Kakashi was kind of like a stray puppy, helplessly drawn to people who gave him food, happily wagging his tail while he was at it. He received a smidgen of kindness from Iruka and now all he wanted to do was to follow the sensei around while hoping for another scrap of that good, wholesome stuff being tossed his way. 

Thing was, Kakashi did not even do hugs, at least not voluntarily. There was Gai who forcibly hugged him in that passionate, bone-crushing way of his, often lifting him entirely off the ground while half-way breaking his ribs. He was also rather tactile with Tenzō, having spent his entire teenage years running missions with his kouhai, seeing and knowing so many things he would rather not. Tenzō would casually slung an arm around his shoulder, he would casually put Tenzō in a headlock, but actual hugs were rare between them. 

As far as Kakashi could remember, the only other person who hugged him like Iruka did was his father. Holding him gently, carefully, as if he was something fragile and not a battle-hardened shinobi who had seen death and worse. It confused Kakashi. He was the infamous copy-nin, cold blooded friend-killer, man of a thousand jutsu - Kakashi did not need nor deserve the attentive kindness Iruka gave to him. Yet he craved for more.

When Tenzō arrived at his family house with Iruka in tow, Kakashi silently thanked his kouhai and spent the whole evening by Iruka’s side, revelling in the patience Iruka had for his dogs despite how unruly they were. He made food, putting his culinary skills to good use, imaginary tail wagging when Iruka looked at him teary and in awe. Despite all his efforts, Kakashi did not earn himself the scrap of kindness he was hoping for. He pulled Tenzō to the side when his other visitors were otherwise occupied, truthful and blunt as he asked, “I want Iruka-sensei to hug me. Ideas?” 

He could literally see Tenzō’s brain short-circuiting but his wonderful, respectable kouhai, so used to Kakashi being weird, did not prod for details. “You have a mouth underneath that mask, senpai. Please use it.” 

“... You mean I should blow him?”

“Talk, senpai. I mean you guys should talk.” 

And that was how Kakashi found himself sitting with Iruka at the engawa of his childhood home, serving Iruka the best bottle of sake he owned, mustering all the courage he could find to deal with talking. Their conversations were bumpy - too many sore spots and fresh wounds to be avoided - and despite Kakashi’s best of intentions, his words came out sharp, spiteful. Still, Iruka stayed. The academy teacher was livid, Kakashi knew that much from the rigid posture and tightly balled up fists, but Iruka had stayed and accepted his odd way of apologising because Kakashi was a disaster when it came to expressing himself and Iruka understood. 

His smidgen of kindness was given to him after many cups of sake. It was not in the form of a hug but Iruka had held onto his upper arms and gently rubbed them a few times, telling Kakashi to take care of himself in that soft, tender voice of his, usually reserved for pre-genins. That warmed Kakashi’s belly better than any sake ever did, and like a good stray puppy he was, Kakashi obeyed. 

He was summoned to another mission a couple of days later, swapping in as Gai’s replacement, taking Team Nine on an escort mission to the Land of Waves. The trip was smooth, his team was competent and the enemies were weak enough that he could just observe from the sideline, giving pointers when required, allowing his team to train in actual battles. 

Kakashi returned to Konoha feeling so refreshed and well-rested that he joined his team for report submission. The air shifted the moment he stepped through the door, prompting him to do a subtle once-over of every single person in the mission room, noting the fleeting gazes and concealed leers. Nothing serious then, Kakashi concluded and went for Iruka’s line, then things started to get obvious. A chūnin in front of him had a stomach ache and left the line, a tokubetsu remembered she had to feed her snakes and took off, another jōnin accidentally set his own report on fire because post-mission anxiety - it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. Slipping his hands into his pockets, Kakashi drawled, “Would you all mind if I cut the line?” 

Team Nine had gawked, bewildered, when the queue cleared for them at jōnin’s speed. Behind the desk Iruka flushed, signalling them to come forward with a short wave of his hand. Coming from Neji the report was impeccable as always, Iruka stamped his approval after reviewing it, smiling warmly at his former students, “Thank you for your hard work. Welcome home.” He then shot Kakashi a look which hopefully conveyed _please get the fuck out of here_ but apparently he did not do it well enough because the jōnin asked, “Sensei, when is your shift ending?” 

“Now.” Kotetsu and Izumo said in unison, “Iruka’s shift ends now.” With that he was forcibly removed from his seat, bag and books and scrolls haphazardly thrown into his arms, and Izumo led him by the elbow to Kakashi’s side because Iruka could not freaking see with the mountain of things he was holding. “Have a nice evening!” The duo said with so much glee in their voice that Iruka was close to bursting a blood vessel, but Kakashi took some of his load away, smiling placatingly, “Shall we go, sensei?” Resigned, Iruka nodded and Kakashi slipped an arm around his waist, flickering both of them out of the mission room, leaving behind dust and scattering paperworks. 

Iruka’s apartment was near enough for Kakashi to cover the distance in one go. Both of them appeared in a puff of smoke, Kakashi inconspicuously helping Iruka to balance while the chūnin fumbled for his keys. There was a standard chakra signature ward in place, nothing too complex, and the colour was a deep, calming ocean blue. Kakashi stood at the front door with half of Iruka’s things in his arms, not entirely sure if he was welcomed until Iruka invited him in. “Sorry about the mess. I was not expecting visitors. Tea?” 

“Yes please,” Kakashi’s footsteps were silent as he scanned his surroundings, finding entry and exit points, possibly breaking all societal norms while he was at it. Iruka allowed Kakashi’s free access, letting the jōnin roam about in his apartment, bedroom included, without any questions. He had observed the same behaviour with his previous charge, the compelling, near paranoid need to memorise the detailed layout of an enclosed space just in case they needed to flee. When Kakashi was done, he accurately picked a blind spot not visible from the windows and sat cross-legged on the floor with his back facing the wall. Iruka would have showered him with praises if Kakashi was one of his pre-genins, but with that being Kakashi, Iruka managed a rueful smile. 

“You had a good mission,” Iruka started, chuckling a little when he noticed a faint tan-line after Kakashi lowered his mask. Kakashi hummed his agreement, slender fingers digging around his scroll pockets until he came up with a thin stack of crumpled papers, which he then attempted to smooth out with the flat of his palm. It did not work. “Souvenir. For you.” 

Iruka almost told Kakashi he didn’t have to do that - an automatic reply drilled into him whenever he received a gift - but he managed to hold his tongue at the very last minute. Taking a closer look, Iruka was pleasantly surprised when he realised what they were. “I do use explosive tags when I fight. This is very thoughtful of you, Kakashi-sensei. Thank you.” 

At that Kakashi visibly relaxed, he slouched and explained how the tags were made in Mist but smuggled into Waves, and how it was plain luck that he came across the very last batch. “It first explodes in the form of boiling liquid, scorching everything it touches. But once the liquid hits a colder surface, an odorless fume will be released, potentially paralysing your opponents. These are skillfully constructed, they will serve you well.” 

The fondness he felt for Kakashi at that moment was like their first exchange at the memorial all over again. He went to his bookshelves and took out the box where he stored his seals and tags, carefully adding the ones from Kakashi into his collection. “I’ll try them out in my next mission and let you know how it goes.”

“What’s our relationship status in the gossip mill?” 

The question popped up so unexpectedly that Iruka choked on his tea, coughing violently as tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. Kakashi patted his back through his hacking coughs, and when Iruka spoke again his voice was rough, “Do you really want to know?” 

“Entertain me, sensei.” 

Iruka groaned. This whole gossip mess that they were in now was partially his fault to begin with. He was cornered by Anko during his first mission desk shift after the weekend spent at Hatake compound. She had accused Iruka for banging Kakashi and had requested for an evaluation of Kakashi’s performance in bed. 

_“Drilling machine or dead salmon?”_ Anko had asked, hand gestures downright nasty. Iruka, quick-tempered and so, so easy, fell into her trap and confessed that he was at the Hatake compound on dog washing duty - which opened a whole new can of worms because what Genma saw was Iruka leaving Kakashi’s apartment on Friday morning, and no one knew about his Hatake compound escapade before he outed himself. Iruka felt like he might as well dig a hole, lie in it and die. 

And the worst thing, apparently Kakashi’s childhood home was off-limits to most, with only Gai and Yamato having the privilege to visit. Now that Iruka was also in the approved visitors list, the whole village had the impression that they were an item. Iruka had no intention to explain any of this to Kakashi, he thought long and hard before summarising, “Gai-sensei named our children. All four of them.” 

Kakashi laughed, it was a clear, beautiful sound and Iruka could not help but to laugh along with him. On one hand he was glad that Kakashi was not mad about the whole fiasco but on the other, this could prove to be a hindrance if Kakashi ever wanted to pursue a relationship with someone else. His worry must have shown because Kakashi stopped laughing and looked at him instead, “You’d be surprised at how many confidants and their charge are in an actual relationship. This is good cover. I don’t mind. I hope you don’t too.” 

“No, of course not. I mean I don’t mind,” Iruka said, fumbling over his words. “The damage is done anyway,” he paused, sharing a smile with Kakashi before he suddenly recalled something important. “By the way I’ve submitted my initial assessment to Tsunade-sama. She’d probably walk it through with the council this week.”

Kakashi hummed, his expression turned unreadable but Iruka continued in a playful tone, “It’s all good, Kakashi-sensei. You’re a mess but you know how to handle your mess. You’re a huge pile of mess being cleared for duty.” Kakashi leaned over to bump his shoulder and Iruka laughed, standing up and heading towards the kitchen. 

“I’ll make some food. Any preference?” 

When Iruka looked over his shoulder, he saw Kakashi tilting his head pondering over his question, silver hair all flopping in the same direction. _Like a puppy,_ Iruka thought to himself and grinned brightly at his charge.


	6. Chapter 6

Being Kakashi’s confidant brought about some unexpected yet wholly welcomed changes for Iruka. He was readily accepted into Kakashi’s inner circle, a tiny group of four including Kakashi, five if he counted Fox. Together with eight nin-dogs, Iruka ended up spending an awful lot of his free time with them.

Kakashi sparred with Gai when he needed to blow off some steam, often ending a taijutsu-only session with scrapes and bruises worse than those obtained during actual missions, getting so physically drained he could fall straight into a dreamless sleep right after taking a shower. Tenzō, getting the short end of the stick, dealt with Kakashi’s whimsical eccentricities, mostly in exasperation. They trained, frequently with the others, blasting jutsu at training ground six, sending sharp projectiles flying everywhere. It was fun to watch, even though their movements were sometimes too quick for Iruka to follow, there was just something so appealing about the sight of highly regarded jōnins drowning themselves in mud. 

Iruka also learnt that a drunk Yamato was a no-filter Yamato. “I’m telling you Iruka-sensei,” the jōnin would complain, one finger transformed into a wooden stick to stir his drink. “Senpai thinks suiton is the solution to everything. Blocked drainage, suiton. Dirty laundry, suiton. Too many dishes to do, suiton. And he had the balls to borrow _my_ plates when he broke all of his. I have only two!” Many times Iruka had to hold in his laughter - Kakashi was definitely pulling Yamato’s pigtails - and he suffered through sessions after sessions of Yamato’s drunken singing. 

With Kakashi’s summons, their relationship was wholesome. Iruka loved the dogs, the dogs loved him, and he earned bragging rights when Urushi allowed him to clip his nails without making a fuss. “Traitors,” Kakashi had said to both his confidant and his summon, a betrayed look on his face. Iruka ignored him, kissed Urushi on the snout and cooed. 

His arsenal of weapons was gradually upgraded by Kakashi - a new, gleaming set of kunai from Suna, a stack of complex barrier seals from Kusa, a beautifully crafted double-edged tantō from Land of Iron. “That kunai you prefer, its weight distribution is uneven,” Kakashi had explained when Iruka refused to accept the kunai set. He asked Iruka to balance the old kunai on one finger, and he balanced a new one on his own. “Once you get used to throwing uneven weight, your aim will be off when you use actual good kunai.” 

Iruka watched the way his old kunai would tilt no matter how many positions he switched while the one on Kakashi’s finger remained perfectly still and balanced. Turning to look at his charge, Iruka shook his head in disbelief, “How did you even notice?” Kakashi shrugged, nonchalant, a small smile underneath that mask, “Maa… Observation.” Knowing he would not get any further information out of the jōnin, Iruka huffed a laugh, “Thank you for the gift, Kakashi-sensei. I will treasure them.” 

Satisfied with Iruka’s reply, Kakashi went on and explained why Suna’s kunai was of exceptional quality and durability, the excitement in his eye not unlike those of Iruka’s pre-genins who were boasting about their fledgling abilities. It was so endearing and Iruka listened, taking in the relaxed slope of Kakashi’s shoulder and the smooth baritone of his voice more than the actual knowledge Kakashi was imparting. Each weapon, some more expensive than the others, was handpicked by Kakashi after he noticed the lack in Iruka’s collection, and he always managed to talk Iruka into accepting them. 

Then there were the goodbyes. Kakashi would drop by the mission desk or the academy to inform Iruka about his upcoming missions. Their relationship cover worked in their favour, if one could disregard the endless teasing Iruka must endure. He punched Kotetsu in the stomach one time his friend bugged him too much about giving Kakashi a farewell kiss right there in the mission room. Kakashi had held his hand, placed a masked kiss on his reddened knuckles, murmuring, “Don’t hurt yourself now, sensei. Leave the dirty work to me.” Iruka nearly combusted, but at least he did not have to hear about farewell kisses for a long, long time. 

When Kakashi was dispatched as Hound, he would flicker into Iruka’s line of sight, staying visible for mere seconds before he disappeared again. The pressure in the air would change - Hound’s presence was intense - and Iruka would mouth a silent “come home safe” which he knew his charge would catch. If a mission was going to be tough, Hound would choose to appear when Iruka was alone, standing so close that Iruka could hug him by just circling his arms. Kakashi never did learn how to use his words, he dropped hints all over the place, hoping Iruka would pick-up his silent request for physical affection, and Iruka did it every single time without fail. 

Feeling the edge of metal arm plates digging into his arms, Iruka turned his head slightly, talking into the cloth of Kakashi’s coat, “Come home safe.” Kakashi did not move away until he had his fill, murmuring a soft “see you later, sensei” before flickering away. 

That had been twelve weeks ago. Iruka slumped into his sofa and sighed at the pile of grading he needed to do. Concentration was scarce when Kakashi had been away for such an extended period of time without any news, and Iruka worried. On top of Naruto, now he had to deal with Kakashi being away. Good thing was Yamato and Gai had been checking up on him. They grabbed ramen together, sometimes even went through an entire set of kata gobsmacked early in the morning, and it helped Iruka to keep his mind off things. He missed the dogs dearly. 

“You guys don’t have to keep doing this,” Iruka slurred when the three of them were sipping their fifth round in an izakaya one late evening, effectively offending his drinking partners. “We’re doing this because we enjoy spending our joyful time of youth with you, Iruka-sensei!” Gai boomed, prompting half the izakaya to look at them, and Iruka grimaced at the mention of his name. When Yamato continued, it was thankfully in a more socially acceptable volume, “Gai-sensei is right. I like to talk shit about senpai when he’s not around.” 

At that Iruka snorted, messily wiping his lower face when his drink went up his nose then down again. It was disgusting even by pre-genin’s standards but at least it did not drip back into his own glass. “Senpai will be fine. He’s pretty tough. Pretty, and tough.” 

“My eternal rival sure has the looks and the goods! A prime specimen of man and shinobi!” Gai boomed _again_ , everyone realising now they were speaking about the copy-nin, and the whole izakaya was invested. Yamato kicked Gai under the table, pointedly looking at the group of kunoichi giggling at the far left corner. “Senpai’s taken,” he said, expression dead serious as he drew a huge air-circle around the academy teacher. “Don’t even think about it.” Yamato’s voice was low, likely went unheard amongst all the noise, but there was no shinobi who could not lip-read. 

Iruka was so smashed that the mortification from Yamato's public announcement came only when he was fumbling to unlock his apartment door. He somehow managed to make it home without running into street lights, and his face _burned_ at the memory. Being equally inebriated, none of them was fit to send the others home, so they agreed to part ways after leaving the izakaya. Iruka hummed a happy tune as he entered his apartment, kicking off sandals while leaning his forehead against the wall, the coolness of it clearing the fuzziness in his head. That few seconds of clarity was enough for Iruka to notice the peculiarity in his ward, there was a memory of foreign chakra signatures entering without leaving, and Iruka forced his mind to stay sharp, keeping his breathing normal.

He maintained his drunken stupor appearance while attempting an echolocation, confirmed two unknown signatures in his apartment, mind racing to find a way out. His echolocation attempt must have been less subtle than he thought because a shuriken suddenly sliced through the air towards him, aiming to kill. Iruka ducked but his mobility failed him and he slumped instead, heart thumping when the shuriken nicked the side of his temple. Before he could react, the air behind him shifted and Iruka whipped out a kunai just in time to block the short sword aiming for his neck, igniting fire sparks as metals clashed. 

The positioning of his wrist was all wrong and he lost the battle of strength at the parry, his own kunai digging into the back of his neck before Iruka rolled to the side and swiped a low kick at his opponent. The pain cleared his head and his adrenaline pumped. Subsequent blows were deflected based on instinct alone - his training with those crazy jōnins did him some good - while he analysed his situation best as he could. 

There was a barrier, likely sound and motion blocking, casted seamlessly along his original ward. He would need something powerful to blast it open so that he could alert the patrol guards, or he could kill the original caster and the commotion would make itself known. His nearest exit was blocked by his first assailant, the other likely at his living area, waiting for a chance to strike. Iruka did not second-guess himself when he took the explosive tag from Mist out of his scroll pocket and flung it in the direction of the living room. 

His opponent saw the kanji on the tag and immediately sought cover behind a stone wall jutsu, cracking Iruka’s parqueted floor as he did, looking at Iruka like he was insane. Having no place to hide, Iruka slid behind a thin cabinet which barely covered half his bulk, turned his back to the explosion and protected his head in a crouching position. His ears rang when the tag went off and he nearly screamed when the boiling liquid scorched through his flak jacket and ate at his skin. 

Gritting his teeth, Iruka held his breath so that he would not inhale any fume and made a mad dash towards the living room, knowing that the other opponent must have been weakened, if not dead. He tumbled, motor skills still not fully cooperating, but that streak of dumb luck actually saved him from a barrage of shuriken being thrown straight at his back. His first attacker lowered the stone wall and went at Iruka, steps unsteady as the paralysing fume had started to take effect. 

There was a body, melted beyond recognition, sizzling in his ruined living room. The barrier was still up, and Iruka realised he placed his bet all wrong. That brief moment of non-action had cost Iruka his ankle. The enemy grabbed one of his calves and toppled him, stabbing his short sword right through Iruka’s ankle from the back to pin him in place. This time Iruka did scream - he was not prepared for the pain - and with the scream he inhaled the fume as well. Knowing he must end the battle soon, Iruka twisted his body in an impressive feat of flexibility, nearly lost it when he aggravated the burns on his back, and fended himself from his sluggish opponent who was attempting to choke him. 

From the corner of his eyes Iruka saw a glint of metal, instantly knowing what it was, he reached out and grabbed the tantō which survived the explosion, then plunged it through the neck of his assailant. It had felt like he was cutting butter. Iruka twisted his wrist upwards to ensure he finished the job, the spray of blood warm on his cheeks. 

The barrier went down the moment his enemy flopped on top of him, jostling his injuries and putting Iruka in so much pain, yet he could not make a single sound. Iruka felt his eyes closed, his back bleeding a river beneath him and he mourned for his lost collection of books. 

* * *

Twelve weeks undercover in the Land of Earth was... something else. The brunt of his mission had been during the earlier weeks where all the nasty fights had occurred, but after that Kakashi was just scouting around for information, having time to physically recover even before heading back to Konoha. He sped through the last leg of his trip, so close to home now he could afford a few body flicker jutsu without worrying about chakra conservation. He did not manage to find any good weapons this time but he brought home a few boxes of Iwa Mochi which he was sure Iruka would love. 

Getting past the main gate, Kakashi leaped onto the rooftops, calculated the distance, then flickered himself directly at Iruka’s window. The sight he saw made his blood run cold. Fingers trembling, Kakashi let his killing intent permeate the air, heavy and murderous, which alerted all nearby shinobi. He could feel incoming chakra signatures, fairly strong ones, before he could even hear their footsteps. Iruka’s ward was destroyed with a powerful burst of his own chakra, brilliant white blazing and eating away at Iruka’s ocean blue, his mind completely forgetting the fact that Iruka had granted him access many months ago. 

Ripping apart the entire window frame, Kakashi leaped into the apartment, so close to Iruka now but before he could check on his confidant lying prone in a puddle of blood, he was subdued by three Anbu operatives, pulling him to the side, kicking the back of his knees so that he dropped into a kneeling position, firm hands pressing his neck to the floor. There were growling and snarling, the sounds inhuman, and Kakashi did not even realise they were coming from him. 

He swooped one of his legs out from his kneeling position and dislodged the operative on his right, the brute strength of his kick making the wall crack when the unfortunate operative collided against it. With the same leg he propelled himself into a standing position, nearly dislocating his restrained arms if not for the other two operatives who loosened their hold at the very last minute. 

“Hound, please. Tsunade-sama is coming.” 

Patrol guards and medi-nins quickly filled the apartment and Kakashi finally stopped his struggle when he saw the slow rise and fall of Iruka’s chest after the dead body was removed. He allowed himself to be held down as he scanned over Iruka’s injuries, hands cold as ice, barely able to breathe. It seemed like an eternity before Tsunade arrived, she immediately worked on removing the short sword that impaled Iruka’s ankle, turning the academy teacher over once she discerned that there were no life threatening injuries on his front. 

The burns on Iruka’s back made some of the medi-nins gasp. Those must be from the tags he gave Iruka. Kakashi had recognised its usage when he saw the melted body and the state Iruka’s living room was in, but he did not know Iruka was hit by it as well. His fists were held so tight that his fingernails broke skin through gloves. 

“Explosive tag from Mist,” Kakashi croaked, low voice strangely loud in the chaotic room.

“What was that, Hound?” 

“His burns are from an explosive tag made in Mist. Boiling liquid, composition unknown. A paralysing fume is released after the explosion. Iruka was hit by it,” Kakashi elaborated, his tone monotonous, subdued in a loose hold now that his killing intent was no longer choking everyone. “There should be more in that silver box.” Tsunade took a quick look at Iruka’s tags collection, nodded her assent and an Anbu operative took off with the tags. 

“Move Iruka-sensei to the hospital now, I’ll be there in a minute. Get T&I in here. Hound, I have no time for you. Go home, report in my office first thing tomorrow morning. Fox, Rabbit, watch him.” 

Kakashi knelt and stared at the puddle of blood - he could not bear to look at Iruka with those burns - until Fox gently pulled him up, supporting his side. “Iruka-sensei will be fine,” the young Anbu said, squeezing Kakashi’s shoulder, saying it again helplessly when Kakashi did not respond. 

“He’ll be fine, Hound.”


	7. Chapter 7

Kakashi disappeared from his apartment in a puff of smoke at the first light without any warning, sending Fox and Rabbit into a mild panic. He reappeared outside the Hokage office but the door was locked and warded, so he flickered directly to the hospital. Fox was right there at the reception when Kakashi arrived, he pointed to the left and they walked together in silence, hallways empty due to how early it was. Kakashi made his presence known by flaring his chakra, he knocked twice before entering, not bothering to wait for a reply. 

“Morning, my office. Which part do you not understand?”

“How’s he?” Iruka was lying on his front, torso heavily bandaged, heart rate and blood pressure stable from what Kakashi could observe on the display. His hair, clumped and matted, was pulled into a messy bun, revealing a bandaged neck dark with bruises. He was frowning slightly in his sleep.

“He’ll live. His ankle needs some work but scarring from the burns will be minimal. You found him early.” Handing over Iruka’s report, Tsunade slumped into a chair and massaged her temples, “The council has caught wind of this. They’re not happy about a lot of things, Hatake. But first they wanted to know why an academy teacher is in possession of Mist’s tags.” 

The report Kakashi was holding crumpled, he forcibly relaxed his fingers, setting the report down on the bedside table. “I bought them off Waves’ smugglers and gave them to Iruka-sensei.” He looked at Tsunade, gaze steely, and the Godaime sighed, “We talk in my office. Fox, you’re dismissed.” 

They flickered into existence again almost at the same time, the Hokage activating a secondary ward for privacy, noticing Kakashi’s attention was on the items scattered on her desk. “Looks familiar?” She asked, tone light but Kakashi’s jaw clenched. He nodded stiffly.

Tsunade reached for the tantō and weighed it in her hand, the original silk wrapping on the hilt had been corroded beyond recognition, but the blade still shone beautifully when she twisted her wrist just right and caught the light. “This thing survived the explosion without a single scratch on the blade. Intelligence got curious so they parried a few katanas against it and all their katanas broke. Is this also something you gave to Iruka-sensei?” Kakashi nodded again. 

“Oh hell,” Tsunade cursed under her breath, fingers drumming, “Origin?”

“Land of Iron.”

“How much did you pay for it?” 

“Nothing. I cashed in a favour.” 

The Godaime hummed at Kakashi’s answer, picking up a kunai this time but eventually decided to leave it. She leaned backwards, linked fingers resting on top of her desk, when she spoke her words were carefully chosen, “Iruka-sensei has very high clearance. Finding all these items which he could never afford with his pay does not look good for him, especially when the items are from foreign lands.” Kakashi tensed once the implication hit, he straightened his slouch to stand in full height, “They question his loyalty?”

“They have enough grounds to. The council will likely call for a hearing.” 

“Every single item on this table was a gift from me. Do they not know my relationship with him?” 

“Who are you trying to fool with gossip material? As far as the council is concerned, Iruka is your confidant and you’re his charge. The impartiality of a confidant’s assessment is indisputable thanks to their seal but they can still be accused for things like, say, accepting valuables from foreign officials in exchange for information. There’s no proof that you gave these to him.” 

Kakashi’s fists clenched in his pockets. Viable solutions ran through his mind a few at a time, he decisively picked one and was much calmer when he replied, “They can look into my head.” 

“Do you know what you’re offering, Hatake?” Tsunade frowned. Mind reading jutsu was rarely used out of interrogation context due to its complete breach of privacy and the strain it put on both the target and the caster. Their annual evaluation involving a Yamanaka gently prodding at the edge of a shinobi’s consciousness received enough backlash as it was, especially from the more progressive side of the society. And here she had one Hatake Kakashi offering free access to his mind and memory just to clear Iruka’s name. 

“The council won’t stop until they have hard evidence. There is no need to bother Iruka-sensei, I can give them what they want,” Kakashi returned to his usual slouch now that he had a solution in place, one he was sure the Hokage herself would not refuse. It was a conclusive way to deal with this whole debacle before it exploded into something bigger, nastier, and the Godaime gave her assent as expected. “Yamanaka Inoichi is the only one with enough clearance and skill to do this. He’ll be in touch. You come to me immediately if you’re experiencing prolonged discomfort after the sessions.” 

“Understood.” Kakashi nodded, exhaustion finally catching up with him, the rhythmic throbbing on the side of his head clearly making itself known. He closed his eyes, attempting to will his migraine away, and when he reopened his single eye he saw Tsunade smiling fondly at him. The soft gentleness she so rarely displayed caught Kakashi by complete surprise, making him forget that he had intended to inquire about the progress of the investigation. 

The Godaime seemed to catch herself as well, she schooled her expression into something sharper, tougher, replacing the fleeting tenderness with a rueful smile. “You’re so much like him,” she said, returning the tantō into its half-burnt sheath. “The way you love is exactly like how he loved your mother back then.”

Kakashi felt his heart skip as realisation dawned. All this time, the willingness to show weakness like puppies showing their bellies, the calmness that washed over him at each gentle touch, the readiness to bare his heart and face his emotions even though it was so difficult, simply because it pleased Iruka when Kakashi was being honest with himself. _Anything for you, sensei_ , he had thought, and it was not for the first time. 

He recalled the fear when he saw an injured Iruka, the way his fingers turned ice cold, quavering beyond his control. He recalled the uncontrollable, animalistic rage, screaming at him to tear Iruka’s enemies apart limbs by limbs, to carve their gut out and shred their throats to smithereens with his fucking teeth if he must. 

Kakashi looked out the window at the brightening sky, voice soft as he murmured, “Is that so.” 

Tsunade swiveled her chair to look at the same sight, Konoha’s dawns were calming to watch, the slowness of everything gave an illusion of peace. “Don’t shoulder everything by yourself. Relationships don't work that way. Make it mutual.” The way Tsunade spoke was gruff, as if she was hiding her embarrassment and Kakashi could not pass up a perfect chance to quip, “Coming from you that’s not very convincing, Godaim-” 

He was physically thrown out of the Hokage office before he could finish his sentence, back cracking as he hit the wall, the pain temporarily distracting him from his migraine. She threatened physical harm if he were to interfere with Ibiki’s investigation, but promised she would keep him updated with the progress. That was as good as Kakashi could get for now, and he left without further objections. 

Tsunade returned to her desk, noticing a scroll resting on top of all the mess, knowing that it was Kakashi’s latest mission report. She took a swig from her stash, burped, and started to read. 

* * *

Iruka woke up feeling pain at places he never knew pain existed. Someone fed him water, it soothed his parched throat and made his mouth feel less like a graveyard. He fell unconscious after finishing his drink, fully welcoming the blissful darkness where he did not have to feel a thing. Things got slightly better the second time he woke up. He managed to thank the nurse who fed him water and told him that he had been out for three days. There were flowers, fruits and get-well cards scattered all over the room and Iruka felt a surge of warmth in his chest. He was lucid long enough to realise that his hair felt like a garbage dump.

The third time Iruka woke up, he was fully aware of his surroundings. He downed the glass of water on his bedside table and concluded that the pain was bearable but not the tangled, matted mess on his head. Iruka was just shuffling towards the bathroom when the door opened, revealing Gai and Yamato on the other side, both of them startled to see him awake and Iruka could literally read the guilt on their faces. 

“Not a single word,” Iruka warned before anyone could start apologising. Gai was bursting tears left and right, Yamato looked like he could use a hug. With some difficulties, Iruka pulled his arms up and patted his friends on their shoulders, “This is no one’s fault. I don’t need your apology but I really need to wash my hair. Please help.” 

And that was how the three of them ended up cramped inside the tiny en-suite bathroom, deciding what was the best way to wash Iruka’s hair. His torso was heavily bandaged so showering was not an option, he got uncomfortably dizzy if he bent his head low for an extended period of time, Gai had a bowl cut his entire life so he was useless and they kicked him out, leaving Yamato who shared a look with Iruka through the mirror before he weakly asked, “Suiton?” 

Iruka was seriously considering the option when Mori arrived to save the day. She gently removed residual blood clots with warm water before detangling his hair, fingernails scraping his scalp with just the right amount of pressure to remove all the grime, sandalwood scented shampoo sending Iruka into a half-asleep bliss. His head was tilted back towards the sink to rinse the shampoo away, and it took four rounds of washing before Iruka’s hair was truly clean. He felt like a newborn man when Mori was done. 

There was no sight of his friends when Iruka came out of the bathroom. He was instead greeted by a few unfamiliar faces who flashed their identification from the Intelligence Division, Ibiki giving him a nod of confirmation from the side. Mori excused herself, Iruka returned to his bed and the grueling process of recalling his assault started. The questions then turned towards his past missions, his past kills, any events he could remember that might trigger the assault. The questioning took much longer than expected and Iruka was dead beat when they were through, falling into a deep sleep before Ibiki could personally greet him after all the formalities were done. 

Being hospitalised as a well-loved academy teacher and a well-acquainted mission desk worker meant his lines of visitors were never ending. Iruka had been entertaining different groups of people during his visiting hours, heard many different, likely exaggerated versions of how he was discovered in his apartment after the incident, not knowing exactly which one was the truth. Also he might actually puke if he had to eat another apple. 

Truth was brought to him later that evening by Fox who knocked softly on the door, masked face peeping into his ward, the action strangely adorable. Iruka waved him in, smiling but dying a little inside when Fox gave him a bag of apples. The Anbu operative chose to sit on top of a low cabinet instead of a chair, legs swinging in the air. 

“You bled so much that day.” Fox said, lanky arms roughly measuring a puddle in the air, “This much.” 

It was obvious that Fox was rather young, Anbu or not, and Iruka could not help but to treat him like one of his own. “You were there?” He asked, and Fox nodded enthusiastically, “Hound found you first. He was mad though. Felt like he was going to murder the entire village so we all rushed over.” 

“... Hound is back?”

“Yeah, he’s back on the same night you were… Wait, fuck.” Fox scratched the back of his head, panic palpable even with the mask. “Hound knows that I know. All is good,” Iruka placated, would have ruffled his head if Fox was sitting closer. “Is Hound okay?” 

Fox’s legs had started to swing again now that the panic was over, his heels hitting the cabinet in repeated thuds. “Think so. Three of us held him down and he still managed to fracture Bear’s hip bone with his kick. Bear said he will punch him in the face next time they see each other. Oh, and I saw Hound ripped your windows apart. Please claim the damage from him, I will testify. He’s super stingy, never pays for ramen.” 

Iruka chuckled softly at Fox’s long-winded commentary, noticing how the young Anbu’s concentration was everywhere from the way he spoke. He was endlessly relieved that Kakashi had returned from his mission safe and sound, yet curious as to why his charge never found the time to visit him at least once. Keeping his expression neutral, Iruka smiled as Fox continued to babble.

“He was in seiza the entire night. On the floor of his apartment after Godaime-sama sent him home. He changed but he didn’t drink, didn’t piss, didn’t sleep a blink. Fucking insane. Then he came to check on you at the first light of the day. I have not seen him since that morning. Not sure if he’s still around in the village.” 

Iruka took in the information, pieced them together, finally starting to comprehend what Kakashi had been through and how he had reacted. Iruka’s heart clenched and he must have lost control of his expression because Fox stopped his babbling and stared, silent for a change. 

His discharge was scheduled for the day after Fox’s visit. It was ten days after his assault, in which he spent his first three out cold and the remaining entertaining visitors. Investigation was on-going, it was not easy to identify his assailants given how little they had to work with, his apartment was in complete ruins and none of his friends offered lodging because they assumed that he would be staying over at Kakashi’s. Iruka was not quite sure how to tell them he had not heard from the jōnin since Kakashi went for that mission a few months ago. 

Tsunade was the one who performed his final examination before Iruka was cleared for release, her healing chakra comforting on his skin. The burns on his back were healing nicely, his ruptured eardrums were knitted back together, he had to avoid pressure on his ankle but at least he could walk without limping.

“Kakashi is at his family house under house-rest order. You can stay there until you sort out your apartment issue. Only if you want to, of course. I’ve talked to him about it,” Tsunade took one last look at his burns and covered them up with bandages, her precise movements spoke of experience. 

“Is Kakashi-sensei alright?” Iruka asked, concerned. He slipped his standard shinobi black over his head without much difficulty, just a slight pull on one side of his back. Tsunade seemed to think over what to say, eventually settling with a shrug, “He’s fine. Just needed some rest. Do you need someone to send you there?”

Iruka politely refused the offer, choosing to walk all the way to Hatake compound. He avoided the main street so that he did not have to greet people, visited the memorial stone on his way to tell his parents he was fine, and when he reached the outskirts of the village, the sun had started to set. The open paddy field in front of Hatake compound gave him an excellent view of blazing red sky, he watched, entranced, until he felt a presence nearing from his back. 

Iruka turned and saw Kakashi walking towards him in a light grey yukata, one of his forearms resting on top of the obi between the folds of his clothes, his geta was a matching grey. Kakashi was not wearing his mask or his forehead protector, silver hair obscured part of his face, he had looked especially delicate when he gave Iruka a soft smile. 

Holding an open palm in front of himself, Iruka smiled when Kakashi took his hand, and he pulled his charge whom he had not seen in months into a crushing hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seiza: Traditional, formal way of sitting in Japan  
> Obi: Belt; Geta: Sandals


	8. Chapter 8

Crushing hug was a terrible idea. Iruka grimaced as he aggravated his back injuries, Kakashi staggered when he was pulled forward, eyesight going momentarily black, slumping like a ragdoll into Iruka’s arms. They groaned, held each other through the bouts of pain, then laughed because it was weirdly hilarious. 

“Sensei,” Kakashi called out softly, nose buried in Iruka’s shoulder, hands resting on Iruka’s sides. “Sensei, I’m home,” he adjusted his stance so that he could hide his face, lean lines of his torso evident through the light material of his clothing. Iruka had one hand on Kakashi’s back while the other rested on top of the jōnin’s head, feeling solid muscles and soft hair underneath his palms. It was ten days late, but Iruka replied anyway, “Welcome home, Kakashi-sensei.” They stayed until Iruka’s ankle refused to take it anymore, the academy teacher gently removed Kakashi from his embrace, relieved to see a hint of colour on those pale cheeks. 

The Hatake compound was not as immaculate as Iruka had remembered. There were weeds popping up at the corners, waves patterns on the gravel indiscernible, dried leaves scattered all over the garden. Scent of sandalwood incense filled the house, light and unobtrusive, and Iruka sat at the engawa, looking up into the darkening sky. He was served tea, steaming and fragrant, he sighed when a tentative sip of the drink warmed his belly. 

They sat in silence until the birds stopped chirping and the insects started to buzz. Kakashi looked at the garden with a soft expression on his face, single eye chasing fireflies while Iruka looked at the profile of Kakashi’s face, noticing prominent dark circles and slightly sunken cheeks. The tiny beauty mark stole all of his attention away. “We’re both pretty messed up huh?” he mused, leaning backwards but stopped halfway, deciding to sit back up again. No position was comfortable and Kakashi watched him, expression apologetic, “It must’ve hurt. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Iruka uttered, firm, staring straight at his charge. If anything, the explosion tag had been the sole reason why he managed to turn the fight in his favour despite his inebriated state. He could live with a few scars, wore them with pride even, his current predicament a much better one than death. 

“I’m not apologising about the weapons. I stand by my judgement, they served you well.”

“Then why-”

“I’m sorry because they harmed you in ways that I failed to anticipate. An oversight on my end,” Kakashi paused, letting his words sink in. “I’m sorry for that.” 

Perplexed, Iruka stared at Kakashi, eventually deciding to just grab his charge’s wrist and squeezed, “You’re making even less sense than usual but whatever it was, no apologies needed. We’re good.” 

“Anything you say, sensei.” The way Kakashi whispered his title along with an easy smile made Iruka absolutely _weak_. He harrumphed, ended their physical contact and took a huge gulp of his tea. “What happened to you?” At his question Kakashi blinked, shrugged, kicked his feet up and down, and Iruka knew to drop the topic. They stopped talking, the gentle waft of sandalwood incense gradually dissipated into nothingness as the sky grew darker.

“Sensei.” When Kakashi spoke again Iruka startled. Their conversations had always been like this, short exchanges with long bouts of comfortable silence, often lulling Iruka into a blank state of mind. He hummed, indicating that he was listening. “Do you know why I’m friends with Gai and Yamato?” 

“They’re nice,” Iruka answered automatically. He spoke the first thing that came to his mind, barely noticing how abrupt the question had been. Kakashi could not hold back a smile at his forwardness, but it turned a little forlorn soon after. “They’re strong fighters, sensei.” _Strong ones stayed longer._ The change in atmosphere caught Iruka’s attention, sharp intuition telling him where this conversation was heading, he held Kakashi’s gaze, “But I’m not.” 

“You’re not,” Kakashi affirmed, speaking so gently Iruka could not find an ounce of energy in him to be angry. He knew the limits of his abilities, understood the real intention behind Kakashi’s gifts along with the long-winded explanation of their usage and built, appreciated how his friends would train with him solo because he struggled in the group. It was a collective effort to increase his survivability as a shinobi, and even though no one ever mentioned it straight to his face, Iruka did not need words to see their reason. 

“Why am I here then?” Iruka asked, genuinely curious, knowing that at this point he was no longer just a confidant to Kakashi. Kakashi was quiet for a long time, choosing his words, “You’re good to me, sensei. I took a calculated risk.” The underlying meaning of Kakashi’s lines was clear, Iruka held his breath. 

“I just didn’t expect it to hurt like that when I saw you that day.” Kakashi’s voice was so soft Iruka would have missed the line if he was not listening closely. Clutching onto the fabric of his yukata on the left side of his chest, Kakashi lifted his gaze and looked at Iruka like he was breaking into a thousand little pieces, “It hurts right here, sensei.” Iruka choked, he placed his hand over Kakashi’s, felt the slight tremble before the jōnin loosely linked their fingers together. All his words failed him. 

“I have ten days to think this over,” Kakashi repositioned their linked hands to rest comfortably between them on the deck, returning every squeeze Iruka gave. “I replayed the image of you lying in a puddle of blood over and over again. Every single time it hurts like the first.” He then turned to Iruka and met those brown eyes, blown so wide he could see his own reflection despite the low light. “But I’m selfish,” Kakashi smiled, rueful. “I’m willing to go through that if it means I can have you with me like this the rest of the time.”

It took a good few seconds before Iruka caught on. The academy teacher pulled Kakashi into a one armed hug, breaths puffing beside his ear, unwilling to let go of their linked hands. He called Kakashi’s name, low and intimate, like he was calling someone dear and it physically hurt Kakashi to listen to it. “Sensei,” he returned the embrace, nosing close to Iruka’s neck, lips touching skin. “Iruka.” 

They pulled apart when Iruka started to strain a little in their prolonged hug. Their gaze met before the academy teacher dropped forward and pressed their foreheads together, noses bumping, breaths mingling, sharing a small smile.

“I can’t promise anything, Kakashi.” 

“I know. Neither can I.” 

There were many things in their way, fear, guilt, possible regrets, but when Kakashi closed his eyes right now all he could see was Iruka, his confidant, his trusted person, grinning so brightly while extending an open palm towards him - he took it without hesitation. Their lips met, it was chaste, ended before it even began, and it was the heaviest and the lightest thing Kakashi had ever known. 

“Will you stay, sensei?” Kakashi asked, the calloused pad of his thumb rubbing along the edge of Iruka’s scar, “Stay with me until one of us is gone. Whoever that might be.” 

Iruka’s answer was instantaneous. “I’ll stay for as long as you’ll have me.” 

* * *

Kakashi found himself in the Intelligence Division building thanks to another briefing. He stood at the far left corner, hands in pockets, leaning against the wall. The air was stale as always, they were again in the basement, this time discussing Iruka's assault. Pictures were plastered onto the wall, showing images of dead bodies and ruined apartment. The assailant’s weapons were displayed on the desk, short sword, shuriken, kunai and the likes. Kakashi did not like the direction of their discussion. 

“You know we’re short staffed, Ibiki. I can’t afford to have half my people working on one case for nearly three weeks. Just imagine the backlog we have right now,” A lady spoke, her stature as tall as the T&I head himself but her voice feminine. Kakashi could not put a name to her face. 

“We followed eight leads and all of them were dead ends. We need new ones.” Ibiki was unfazed as he stared her down, Tsunade sighed in her seat. 

“You have my word that we’ve done everything we can. We still have to deal with the murders at Tanzaku before that blows up.” 

Tsunade held her hand up before Ibiki could speak, she glanced across the room, “We cease the investigation on Iruka-sensei’s assault. Two Anbu operatives will be assigned to shadow him on rotation basis for next six months. New security protocol is still under the council's review but I’ll push it through. Since we can’t find out who did this, let’s do what we can to keep our sensei safe. Are we clear?” 

The decision did not sit well with Kakashi but he knew it was the right thing to do. There were too few identifiable features on the assailants, clothes and weapons indistinguishable, fairly standard ninjutsu and taijutsu skills, not to mention one of them was melted so badly that the forensics deemed an autopsy meaningless. The only consolation was that the assailants could not have been too powerful. Kakashi walked through the incident with Tenzō and Gai, all three of them agreeing that the job could have been done the second Iruka stepped into the apartment all happy and drunk. 

Kakashi stopped by Yamanaka Flowers on his way back. Inoichi greeted him, the man looking much better now that their sessions were long over. In a way, Inoichi was probably the only person alive who knew so much about Kakashi and it created a strange sort of bond between them. Kakashi nodded his greetings. 

“What brings you here today, Kakashi?”

“Flowers for my father, please. And for Iruka-sensei.” 

Inoichi went into his shop and started picking out stalks of flowers, holding them together to judge the aesthetics. He chatted with Kakashi as he worked, telling the story of how Ino sprayed water on him when he told his daughter that Kakashi-sensei was a very gentle and sweet man. 

“If only she could see what I saw,” Inoichi said, shaking his head lightly.

“Please Inoichi-san, I have an image to maintain,” he replied easily, handing over bills but was surprised when he received three bouquets instead of two, one of which consisted of only lavender. 

“Send my greetings to Iruka-sensei. He sleeps better with it.” Kakashi looked at the dainty stalks of purple, smiling when he remembered the flowers Iruka left for him at the very beginning of their confidant and charge relationship. He gave a two fingers salute to Inoichi, preparing to leave, but the older man leaned close and whispered, “Chapter sixteen is excellent literature. Any other recommendation?” 

Kakashi snorted, “Twenty three. Read chapter twenty three.” 

Hatake compound was lively today. He could hear his dogs barking since he did not erect a secondary ward before he went out, hydrangea lining the fence had been shaped into little rounded shrubs, and his ward buzzed pleasantly when he stepped through the front door. His summons greeted him, pawing at his pants legs, licking his hands when he patted them on the head. 

Scent of sandalwood incense lingered when he entered the house, he took the flowers with him and walked towards the room which held his family altar. The scent got stronger as he neared, the sliding door was ajar, he could see Iruka carefully wiping his father’s tantō, blade broken in the past but restored. Noticing his presence, Iruka set the blade down and turned to look at him, his bright grin a splitting image of what Kakashi had pictured in his own mind. He walked towards Iruka, setting down the flowers on a low table and accepted the chaste kiss Iruka pressed over his mask. 

“I’m home, sensei.” 

“Welcome home, Kakashi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the main story. Huge thanks to all the comments and kudos, this is the first time I've written something this fast (Normally I write at turtle-speed ¬.¬  
> I hope you enjoyed the story, please let me know what you think.  
> There are some scenes that did not make it here so I might update this with bonus chapters.  
> Thank you for reading! <3


	9. Chapter 9

There were times when Iruka felt like he truly knew Hatake Kakashi. It was the quiet moment they shared in the Hatake compound, sipping sake and sharing old tales, looking at the lights of fireflies. It was the long night spent grading in his apartment while Kakashi lounged on his sofa, reading that questionable literature of his, occasional laughs soothing Iruka's headache. It was the rare morning when Kakashi had spent the night at his, so adversed to cold his charge would hide underneath the blanket, leaving only half his face and a tuft of hair visible. When Iruka smoothed a hand over those silvery strands, Kakashi would nuzzle into his touch seeking warmth, revealing more of that ridiculously attractive face, making Iruka smile. Overnight stays were incredibly rare, happened only when Kakashi could afford to sleep in, and Iruka treasured every moment of Kakashi being sleepy and safe in his bed. 

Then there were times when Kakashi knelt in front of his family altar for hours at end, visible eye looking straight ahead, the scent of sandalwood incense long dissipated when Iruka came bringing food. His charge would sometimes spend all day at the memorial, maintaining the same posture, looking at increasing numbers of names, carrying heavier and heavier weight. Once he saw a maskless Kakashi caressing the scar over his left eye, looking like he was about to cry. Iruka never asked. He offered soft smiles and reassuring touches, knowing full well that his charge was as skittish as a stray cat and might bolt any minute despite their developing relationship. At times like these Iruka thought that perhaps he did not know Kakashi all that well after all. 

"Some of my best and worst memories happened here, sensei," Kakashi once said to Iruka, focus wavering due to the amount of sake he consumed. They had spent the entire day at the Hatake compound with their tiny circle of friends and the nin-dogs, doing awfully mundane tasks like weeding and dusting - the day filled with so much laughter and joy that Iruka wondered out loud why Kakashi never moved back in. “Let’s try making only good memories from now on,” Iruka replied softly when there was no further elaboration, palm resting on Kakashi’s exposed forearm, his smile gentle. Kakashi nodded his silent agreement, visible eye crinkling when he covered Iruka’s hand with his own. The crickets buzzed loudly in the stifling summer heat. 

Kakashi limped into Iruka’s apartment one Saturday afternoon, left arm clutching his abdomen while the other slung over Yamato’s shoulder. “Do I want to know what happened?” Iruka mused as he stepped to the side allowing entry, Kakashi’s shoulder lightly brushing his at the narrow entryway. Fox snickered as he toed off his sandals, Yamato laughed, and Iruka reckoned whatever happened to Kakashi was likely nothing new. 

“Bear punched him, chakra enhanced, sent him flying into a tree and BAM!” Fox babbled animatedly as he wandered into Iruka’s open kitchen, scratching his left butt while inspecting the pot of ramen broth bubbling on the stove. “So fucking satisfying. Too bad it wasn’t his face. Can I have some of this? Smells good.” 

The young Anbu’s sense of propriety diminished as time passed, becoming that one friend who raided Iruka’s fridge empty then complained loudly that he had nothing to eat, Iruka did not mind the slightest. “Help yourself. Wash your hands before you eat. And leave some for the others!” 

He then exchanged a few words with Yamato, the latter radiating so much glee at Kakashi’s predicament, only excusing himself to join Fox when his stomach rumbled in protest. With his other visitors properly occupied, Iruka turned his attention to Kakashi, poking at his charge’s sore spot, grinning when the jōnin whined low in his throat, “Not you too, sensei.” Kakashi’s head was tipped backwards, arms resting against the back of the sofa, legs spread and extended in front of him. The relaxed, boneless posture was a good look on Kakashi, and Iruka blushed furiously when he realised that he was staring at the vacant space between Kakashi’s legs. 

“Do you need ointment for that?” A gentle palm on Kakashi’s side was enough to placate his charge, the jōnin shook his head, smiling underneath his mask, “Kiss it better?” Not wanting to lose the teasing battle they had on for a few months now, Iruka mouthed _later_ and blushed all the way to the tip of his ears. He had to avert his gaze when Kakashi winked - his heart could only take so much - then he noticed Fox’s contemplative stare all the way from the kitchen. The young Anbu nodded sagely at Yamato, reaching some kind of conclusion, “Damn you’re right. Iruka-sensei _wants_ to give him head.”

The chaos that followed was pure reflex on everyone’s part. Iruka reached for the nearest object - a thankfully empty mug on his coffee table - and flung it right at Fox’s head. The young Anbu evaded the attack by tilting his neck, Yamato sprouted some branches to rescue the mug and Kakashi bolted upright in his seat, slender fingers resting way too near to his zipper.

Iruka, thoroughly mortified yet still having the capacity to be mildly aroused, thought about the plot that he really liked in the cemetery, wondering when he could move in if he paid everything in full by this afternoon. Outside his windows the maples were turning a deep shade of red, it was the exact color of his face. 

“The entourage from Yukigakure arrives tomorrow.” They had this conversation on a sunny winter day, it snowed lightly in the morning and the stone garden at Hatake compound was looking especially peaceful. Iruka sipped his tea and nodded, stretching his legs under the kotatsu, “What about it?”

“I must attend the official welcome dinner as one of the clan heads. Are you willing to join me?” Iruka’s breath hitched, knowing that Kakashi’s invitation actually meant they were going official all the way up to the council. His charge gave him a soft smile, their feet touching underneath the table, “It’ll be boring without you, sensei.”

“I don’t even know what I’m signing,” Iruka stamped his name seal on yet another scroll, glowering at his charge when he noticed Kakashi’s handwriting could damn well be perfect when he wanted it to be, brush strokes strong and decisive, the style jagged like his chakra affinity. He wondered why the paperwork for an official dinner invitation could be so excessively complex. “If I’m suddenly in debt I’m coming after you, Hatake.” His charge sealed the signed scroll with a smear of blood, smiling innocently, “Ah, so little trust.” 

On the day of the dinner, Kakashi donned a black haori with Hatake clan’s crests elegantly sewn onto the dark fabric, the grey and black colour scheme a stunning contrast with his fair skin. The jōnin was wearing a five crests haori-hakama, clothing of the highest formality, the fabric giving off a subtle, silky gloss. His forehead protector was replaced by a simple eye patch, mask in place, hair drooping, and he lost the slouch. Iruka’s heart was struggling. 

“You look amazing,” he praised, palms smoothing over non-existent creases, feeling solid muscles underneath those layers. “And you too,” Kakashi murmured, adjusting the hem of Iruka’s haori while pressing his lips against the tanned forehead. Iruka’s own haori-hakama set was his family heirloom which miraculously survived the Nine Tails’ attack, handed down for three generations, beautiful as the day they were made. The colour was a rich, dark blue with inconspicuous waves pattern dyed at the sleeves, his family crest embroidered with silvery white threads. Kakashi gave him another once-over before sliding an arm around his waist, eye crinkling, “Let’s go. We shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

They were late, Iruka should have known. He resisted the urge to elbow Kakashi when the entire dining hall went silent the moment they appeared in a gust of wind, and Iruka honestly could not tell if they were more surprised at his presence or Kakashi’s.

“Hatake, sun’s rising from the west today?” 

“Why Tsume-san, I thought it was from the north.” 

Kakashi greeted Inuzuka Tsume amiably when he passed by her seat, navigating towards the front closer to where the Hyuga and Aburame were sitting. The only unoccupied low table was directly beside the entourage, and the dinner resumed once they were seated. A young lady, pale skin, almond eyes and snow white hair was on Kakashi’s right, her eyes an unworldly shade of green. She looked at them unabashedly and grinned, showing two sharp and slightly crooked incisors, adorable beyond words.

Her name was Juhyō Shimoe, Iruka learnt as the dinner progressed. She was the only woman in the Juhyō clan who manifested their bloodline limit and she would be promised to someone from Konoha, strengthening the bond between both villages. Iruka recalled the faces he saw, bachelors from reputable clans sitting alongside their clan heads, and had a sudden realisation that this entire dinner was an omiai in disguise.

“I was under the impression that Hatake-sama is single.” An elderly woman stated when sake was served after their meal, looking at the council instead of Kakashi. “Believe me Juhyō-sama, we were under the same impression.” Kakashi’s single eye crinkled, he took Iruka’s hand and linked their fingers on top of the low table, sweeping his gaze across the room, “Maa… Konoha has many other fine young men.” 

“Our bloodline limit is powerful, Hatake-sama. Shimoe can give you strong offspring. Something your current partner is incapable of.” Kakashi’s hold on his hand tightened and Iruka took a few deep breaths, reminding himself that he should not yell at foreign dignitaries. The tension in the hall was palpable, Tsunade looked like she was about to say something but Juhyō Shimoe beat her to it. One pale finger pointing at Kakashi, she exclaimed, “But he’s so _gay_!” 

When everyone remained silent - shocked at her choice of words - Shimoe changed her posture from kneeling to sitting cross-legged like a little delinquent, “Can you even get it up with me? I’m giving up love but I still want a healthy sex life.” Kakashi’s shoulder trembled as he held his laughter, feigning remorse, playing along. “I’m afraid I can’t, Juhyō-san.” Iruka’s hand was then lifted to Kakashi’s lips where obnoxious, smacking kisses were placed repeatedly on his knuckles. “Like you said, I’m very gay when it comes to Iruka-sensei.”

Iruka left the dinner smashed, downing one too many congratulatory drinks, most of them coming from Shimoe who outdrank everyone in the hall. They walked home, holding hands and giggling, sandals kicked off haphazardly at the entryway. “We’re so official,” Kakashi said, plastering himself on Iruka’s back, chin resting on Iruka’s shoulder. Iruka turned to face Kakashi with some difficulties, motor skills failing and words slurring, “My apartment’s going to Naruto but you’ll get my savings. And the dog snacks, all the dog snacks are going to you.” 

“Sensei,” Kakashi breathed, grinning wide under his mask, “You’re so good to me, sensei.” 

It was many, many years later when Iruka found out that he was the co-owner of Hatake compound all along, the papers signed and sealed a day before they went official in front of the council. A thin layer of snow covered the pristine stone garden, Iruka gently thumbed the dated scroll in his hand, his surroundings so quiet that time seemed to stop. 

Spring was Gai’s season. The spandex-clad jōnin organised a cherry blossom viewing party, inviting everyone he knew and the whole thing somehow turned into an event fully funded by the village. Cherry blossoms were in full bloom, pink petals dancing in the wind, the air flowery sweet. Iruka made his rounds greeting people, accepted Gai’s challenge then regretting it, finally limping his way back to Kakashi who was sipping sake at a less crowded area with Yamato. 

He flopped onto the mat face down, groaning as his muscles screamed in protest. “I’ll write my name backwards if I ever agree to Gai’s challenge again.” His charge chuckled, smoothing a hand over Iruka’s back while channeling some healing chakra into his system. “What did you do?” Feeling better, Iruka sat upright and stuffed a piece of rice cracker into his mouth, flicking open a can of beer with his forefinger, “I’d rather not say.”

Kakashi snorted, sharing a look with Yamato before both of them started to laugh, uncontrollable and contagious. It was one of those inside jokes that Iruka had absolutely no idea about, but he loved seeing the tears of mirth staining the corner of his charge’s visible eye. Kakashi, observant as always, slung an arm over Iruka’s shoulder and brought him close, “You know how Yamato’s wood release works, right?” 

Iruka nodded, looking back and forth between both jōnins, Yamato continued, “Let’s just say I can hold a plank without using my limbs and Gai saw that as a challenge.” Kakashi started laughing again, his ribs vibrating on Iruka’s side, and a happy Kakashi was enough to make Iruka laugh even before he caught on to the joke. 

“He fractured it the first time, went to the hospital, fractured it again in the hospital because _nothing is impossible with the power of youth_ and the medics had to sedate him. For real it looked like he had an aubergine down there, I'll show you pictures later.” Iruka spilled his beer as he shook, free hand clutching onto Kakashi’s arm, losing it completely when Gai came looking for them and asked why all three of them were wheezing.

His memories of spring were fond. There were alcohol and cherry blossoms and his favourite people were laughing like they were the happiest in the world. 

Iruka celebrated Obon in the middle of summer. On the first day he cleaned his own family altar, flowers and food offerings neatly arranged, the bell softly rang. Iruka lit a jasmine incense as he prayed, kneeling in front of the altar even when he ran out of things to say, his thoughts drifting to Kakashi and the scent of sandalwood incense lingering in the Hatake compound. 

The second day of Obon was spent cleaning the cemetery. Many of those who passed did not have any living family left, and it was up to the volunteers to clean their graves and offer them flowers. Iruka had been doing this for years, he meticulously cleaned each unattended gravestone, paying his respect when he was done, thanking their service if he happened to recognise the names. 

Kakashi came to pick him up on the third day of Obon, wearing a light blue yukata over his sleeveless black undershirt, having promised that they would go to the Bon Odori festival together this year. They shared a serving of takoyaki, ate too much grilled meat, caught a bunch of goldfish and gave them all to a young girl who had been staring at them in awe. The taiko drummers were standing on top of the wooden scaffold right in the middle of the festival, the leading dancers one level below, and on the ground people danced in celebration, their movements uncoordinated. 

They watched quietly from the side until the third song ended, and Kakashi tugged on Iruka’s wrist lightly, leading him away from the festival. It was a short walk to the cemetery, the area dark despite some flickering candles, but Kakashi navigated like he knew the placement of the graves by heart. He stopped in front of a gravestone which Iruka had never cleaned before, crouching down to touch the inscription, rearranging the flowers even though they were perfect to begin with. 

“Sensei, meet Rin. She was an exceptional medi-nin. I killed her with my own hands.” Kakashi did not utter another word after that and Iruka stood with him, the sound of his pounding heart louder than summer breeze rustling leaves. They moved onto the next gravestone, also pristinely clean, the offering was a plate of dango protected from ants by a simple barrier. Kakashi lowered himself again, fingertips lingering on top of cold stone, his touch careful and light, “This is Obito. My Sharingan belongs to him. He died saving me.” 

The final grave they visited was Kakashi’s father’s. Iruka looked at the man standing beside him, seeing a quarter of his face and his broken entirety, and Iruka’s heart clenched to the point that he could feel physical pain. He took Kakashi’s hand in his and squeezed so tight that the jōnin pulled back a little, but Iruka refused to let go. Closing his eyes, he silently called out to Kakashi’s father and the two names he recently learnt. 

_Please watch over Kakashi. I’ll do my best to stay alive and take care of him and love him so lend me your strength and help me watch over him. Please, keep him safe._

Knowing Kakashi or not was not important at all. His charge, having so much trust in Iruka that he was willing to tear open decades-old scabs one at a time, just so that Iruka could take a glimpse of what made Hatake Kakashi the man he was today - it was more than what Iruka could ever asked for. He took a deep breath, relaxing the strength of his grip but keeping their hands linked, he opened his eyes to look at Kakashi. 

Behind them fireworks flared, the first sound shrill before it exploded with a loud boom in the night sky, staining Kakashi’s hair in a reddish glow. Iruka wiped at his eyes, they shared a smile, eventually breaking their gaze to look at the blazing colours in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kotatsu : Low table covered by a futon  
> Omiai : Woman and man introduced to each other to consider the possibility of marriage  
> Obon : A celebration to honor the spirits of one's ancestors
> 
> Aaaand here's the epilogue! It's basically a combination of scenes that didn't make it to the main story.  
> I hope you liked it. Thank you for reading! <3


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